


Out of Time

by after_avenging_hours



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 40s Steve Rogers, F/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny Steve Rogers, Time Travel AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/after_avenging_hours/pseuds/after_avenging_hours
Summary: After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 158





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Series Warnings: Canon typical violence, one part contains Smut, this series is mostly fluff with a sprinkling of angst

You don’t know how it went so wrong. You’d been on a mission with the team. A few former SHIELD scientists that were suspected to have been working under the influence of Hydra had been spotted in the same vicinity, raising several red flags. After a few days of recon, you’d managed to track down the location of their lab. When the team had busted the door in, ready to take them down, they’d already been expecting you.

The place was full of hired mercenaries and ex-members of the SHIELD Strike team. They’d put up quite a fight. Sam, Clint, and Wanda held down the ground floor while you and Steve had made your way to the upper level. Two agents held you off in close combat while six others took on Steve at the same time. Even six to one, they were having a hard time restraining the Super Soldier, but they managed to keep him pinned just long enough to allow one of the scientists to inject him in the neck with some type of black substance.

“No!” you scream, turning absolutely feral. Throwing caution to the wind, you mercilessly take on the two agents fighting you and they soon end up on the floor.

As Steve falls to his knees, the six other agents grab the scientists and leave out the back door. You rush forward and drop down, skidding across the floor to catch Steve by the shoulders before he can faceplant into the floor.

“Steve!” you call desperately. “Steve, look at me!” Your hands grip his face, trying to guide his eyes to yours, but they’ve turned hazy and unfocused. Perspiration has begun to collect on his brow and the veins at the injection site on his neck have started to turn black.

You lift a hand to activate the commlink in your ear. “Requesting immediate evac. The Captain is down. I repeat, Captain America is down.”

The rest of the team rendezvous to your location and it takes all of you to get Steve out of there and onto the Quinjet. You grab a tablet and bring up the life sign readings programmed into his suit. You watch with dread as his heartbeat wildly fluctuates between too high and too low, while his body temperature continually climbs.

As soon as the jet has landed back at the Avengers base, he’s carted off to the infirmary, where Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho are already waiting for him. You pace up and down the hallway, unable to rest or step away for even a moment to change out of your uniform. Your stomach is tied up in knots and you can’t get the image out of your head on how his face just went completely blank as soon as they had injected him.

You halt your movements and look up when the door opens and Bruce steps out. Seeing Bruce’s face on the Hulk’s massive body was still a little unsettling, but you have started to grow used to it.

“How is he? Is he okay?” you rush out.

Bruce’s poker face is terrible as he pulls off his glasses and fails to meet your gaze. “He’s stable for now… but no, he’s not okay.”

You cup a hand to your mouth and release a pained whimper. “What-” your voice breaks and you have to clear your throat before you can try again. “Do you know what they injected him with?”

“From what we can tell, it seems to be some sort of anti-serum venom. It was made to specifically target the Super Soldier serum enhancement in Steve’s cells.”

You feel the dread sink like a weight in your stomach. “What can we do to stop it?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Wanda grabbed the syringe from the Hydra lab, so we have a small sample of the anti-serum for analysis. But without a pure sample of Steve’s Super Soldier serum, it could take months to synthesize a cure. And he doesn’t have that long.”

The lump in your throat grows and it becomes difficult to swallow. “How long does he have?” you almost don’t want to ask.

You see the answer in his eyes. “This anti-serum… it’s aggressive-”

“Bruce,” you cut him off, urgency in your gaze. “How long?”

“A few days… maybe a week.”

Your whole body blanches and you stumble a few steps until your back hits the wall. The thought alone was inconceivable. Steve… Your Steve… Gone in less than a week? Haven’t you both been through enough? You shake your head fervently, straightening your spine and pushing off the wall. “No,” you deny, allowing your anger and frustration to bolster your strength.

“Y/N…” Bruce attempts to reach out to you.

“No!” you coil back. “No, I won’t let that happen.”

“Y/N, we will do everything we can, but without the original serum-”

“Then I’ll get it for you,” you state with finality to your tone, a plan already forming in your mind.

Bruce looks at you, perplexed. “How?”

Instead of responding, you turn on your heel and march down the hallway. Pulling out your phone, you bring up your contacts and dial the number you need. You’re talking as soon as the line picks up. “Hey Scott, remember that favor you owe me?”

–

It takes a full day of preparation before things are ready. You grow even more anxious with every minute that passes. Every single tick of the clock is one less second Steve has to live.

Seeing him in the infirmary had nearly broken you. Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho were keeping him sedated to help slow the spread of the anti-serum, but the damage was already beginning to take its toll. It was working its way through his body like a poison, starting in the bloodstream, but if left untreated, his organs would begin to fail systematically. Normally, Steve’s Super Soldier serum would help defend his body from something like this, allowing him to metabolize it out before it could do any harm. But, somehow those Hydra scientists found a way to target the original serum first, to weaken his body’s defenses and let the venom take over. It must have taken them years of research to develop something like this and you only had days to reverse it.

You had never seen the Super Soldier look so weak and sickly. He had lost all color, his skin pale and beginning to verge into an ashen grey. He looked thinner like he had been bedridden for weeks, not just a day. His cheeks were gaunt and dark bags had appeared beneath his eyes. When you reached out to touch his hand, it was deathly cold and your heart had skipped a beat. You didn’t understand how this could be happening so fast to the strongest man you had ever known.

You’d pushed the hair off his forehead; no longer a shiny blonde, but more of a dull straw color; and pressed your lips to his skin. “You’ve come to my rescue so many times, Steve. It’s time for me to return the favor. Please, hold on, just a little longer, until I get back.” You then place a gentle kiss to his lips, a single tear dropping from your eye and landing on his cheek. You wipe at the wet trail with your thumb before you step back and release a shaking breath. “I will make it back,” you promise both to him and to yourself.

–

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Bucky asks, helping you in to your quantum suit.

It’s good that most of his memories were back. He was your best source of information for getting the correct dates, times, and places so you could successfully accomplish your task. Not only that, but you had needed a quick and dirty rundown on etiquette, behavior, and style for the time period. It felt like you had enough bobby pins and hair spray to keep your hair as still as a plastic doll. Not to mention the signature red painting your lips.

“You can’t,” Bruce speaks up from where he stands behind the console for the platform. “The infinity stones were the only thing holding our reality together when we time traveled the last time. Those stones no longer exist in this reality. Since she isn’t coming back with them either, there may be repercussions from this. She should go alone because she doesn’t already exist in that timeline.”

“I’ll be okay, Bucky,” you give him a tentative smile, unsure if you’re telling the truth.

Based on the look in his eyes, you know he’s reading you easily. He gives your arm a squeeze in reassurance. “Stay out of trouble. The punk will kill me if anything happens to you.”

You nod and begin to step away, heading for the platform. You shift on your feet, mentally psyching yourself up for the journey. You release a long breath before signaling to Bruce that you’re ready. You meet Bucky’s gaze one last time. “Be right back,” you tell him before your helmet pops into place and you’re flying through the quantum realm.

–

You land in 1943 without much fuss, quickly dissolving out of your quantum suit before anyone catches you in the empty alleyway. You fix any flyaway hairs and straighten your outfit and then walk out onto the main street. It’s a bit of a trip, seeing all the old-fashioned cars driving past and the dated outfits and hairstyles that everyone wears. The movies and pictures that you’ve grown up seeing don’t quite do it justice. However, it does remind you of the sketches Steve sometimes shared with you whenever he was feeling nostalgic.

You give yourself a second to marvel at everything, but the thought of Steve helps to sharpen your focus and bring yourself back on track. You step onto the sidewalk, behind a group of young school children with their mothers in tow. Walking passed a newspaper stand; you take a quick glance at the paper to make sure you’ve landed at the correct time. Monday, June 7th, 1943.

Breathing a breath of relief, you move to the edge of the sidewalk and hail a taxi. Soft, jazzy notes fill the air of the car from the radio, helping to ease the tension in your shoulders. The song is also familiar to you, because of Steve. You give the driver the address to your destination and soon find yourself pulling up in front of Brooklyn Antiques. You pay for the taxi with a set of vintage coins you’d been able to acquire before leaving your time. You shuffle out of the taxi and head into the shop.

The bell above the door dings and you enter the space. An older woman in a soft pink sweater steps out from the backroom to greet you. “Did you hear the ball game last night?”

Your mind races as you try to recall the answer to the code that Bucky had told you about. They would change them daily and randomly rotate through a long list of them. “Yes, but I only wish I had some Cracker Jacks,” you respond.

She nods once before moving behind the cashier desk and presses the secret button beneath. You try to steady your pounding heart as you walk to the back room and stand in front of the bookshelves. After a moment, the shelves begin to move to reveal a set of hidden doors. You roll your shoulders back and walk with confidence into the hidden laboratory.

The energy in this place buzzes like a beehive. The tan military uniform you wear allows you to blend with everyone else. People give you a casual side glance before turning back to what they had previously been doing. As you walk down the hallway toward the main room, the sound of raised voices grabs your attention.

“You’ve had more than enough test runs! Stark’s machine works. Your formula is ready for development. All that’s left is the man.”

Looking to your left, you see that it’s Colonel Phillips and Dr. Erskine that are arguing inside the observation room. Dr. Erskine shakes his head, with an exasperated look on his face. “But it can’t be just any man, it has to be the right man!”

“We’ve been at this for months! Week after week, we run training exercises on a new group at Camp Lehigh, and you’ve denied every single one! Do you realize how much money this has cost us? We have to pay the scouts that send men our way. Gotta pay the buses that bring ‘em to the camp. Lodging, food, uniforms, supplies. Enough is enough. You have one week to find your man for the next round of recruitments. If you can’t find him. Then you’ll have to pick from the rest of the selection. We cannot afford to wait any longer.”

With the final word, Colonel Phillips turns and walks out of the observation room. You make sure to step back and out of his way, ducking your head slightly, so as not to draw attention to yourself. You look back up when you hear Dr. Erskine give a long drawn out sigh. He has removed his glasses and rubs at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

You find yourself moving forward and into the room. “Is everything all right, Doctor?” you question with a gentle voice.

He moves his glasses back into place and meets your gaze. “Not quite.” He admits, his accent a little thicker with stress in his voice. “Unless you have an idea on where we might be able to find someone actually worthy of this project.”

Your lips part as you try to come up with a response to that. “Well… Um. I’m sure the World Expo will bring all sorts of new faces in.” You cringe inwardly a little, thinking that may have been too obvious. Bruce’s words of warning echo in your ears. Get in, get out, don’t change the timeline.

Erskine’s eyes light up at that prospect. “The World Exposition? Of course. That is a wonderful idea. Stark mentioned that there was a recruitment center there. Come, let’s go take a look.”

He begins to head for the doorway and gestures for you to step through first. You hesitate. “You want me to come with you?”

He smiles kindly. “Well, it was your idea, was it not?”

So much for ‘get in and get out’. Although, this could be a good thing. After all, Erskine was your ticket to the serum. Another second passes, and then you begin to move out of the observation room. You look down at the machine in the main room, knowing that one day soon, it will be used to create a Super Soldier. Erskine follows you out before taking the lead and moving toward the exit. He pulls off his lab coat and stops at a coat rack off to the side. He swaps the lab coat for a beige trench coat and his fedora.

The MP sitting at the desk right next to the secret entrance hits the button to allow you both to exit. Erskine leads you out of the antique shop and over to one of the vehicles parked nearby. The driver is already sitting in the front seat. Erskine opens the back door and gestures once more for you to enter first. You give him your thanks as you sink into the leather seat, then push over to the other side to make room for him to follow you.

Dr. Erskine gives his instructions to the driver to take you to the Expo.

You relax your posture into the cushioned seat and watch 1943 New York pass by the window.

“So, you are new,” Dr. Erskine states casually, also looking out through the window on his side of the car.

Your shoulders stiffen and your heart stops. “I…” you begin to protest before changing tactics. You laugh nervously and glance over at him. “Is it that obvious?”

He continues to look out his window as he responds. “In all the months we have been working on this project, no one has ever asked me how I am doing.” He turns away from the window then and meets your gaze.

Your own gaze softens with sincerity. “That sounds lonely.”

He tilts his head and lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug. “This is the bed that I have made. Great things can happen if my serum is used properly, but many terrible things have already come to pass.”

You know that he is talking about Red Skull. “We will find the man you need, Doctor,” you assure him.

He looks at you curiously. “How is it you sound so sure of that?”

You swallow and try not to look like a deer caught in a headlight. “I have faith,” you manage to get out.

He cracks a small smile. “Faith,” he repeats, before he releases a low chuckle. “I’m afraid as a scientist, I may need a little more than that.”

You find yourself smiling back. “Then perhaps I can try to muster enough faith for the both of us.”

“That would be appreciated,” he responds right as the car pulls to a stop. He steps out of the vehicle first before turning and reaching to take your hand to help you to your feet.

“Oh wow…” you marvel as you take in the sights of the Expo before you.

The giant metal sculpture of the globe looms over everything, casting its shadow over the crowds as people hurry passed in excited groups, eager to see the exhibits. A monorail train curls around the globe and zooms past in a rush of metallic sound.

“You have not yet seen the Exposition?” Dr. Erskine asks curiously.

You find it difficult to pull your eyes away from the sights. “I haven’t had the time,” you speak honestly.

“I heard that several of the soldiers were planning to take the other women to Stark’s show this weekend. I’m sure you could join them.” He speaks casually as he begins to head for the recruitment station.

“Those men don’t interest me.” You follow behind, looking around as you do.

Dr. Erskine grins to himself. “Fair enough.”

The two of you continue on your way. Before you can make it inside the building, though, a voice calls out “Dr. Erskine!”

A man in an expensive-looking suit walks up to you both. He has dark hair, a thin mustache, and a dashing smile. A smile with confidence that you recognize.

“Mr. Stark,” the Doctor greets, shaking his hand.

“What brings you all the way out here? I thought you never left your lab, save for heading out to Camp Lehigh. And who is this?” Howard’s eyes trace down the length of your body, an appreciation settling into his features.

You raise a brow, barely able to contain your amusement between this Stark and the one you’ve known. “She’s not interested,” you reply bluntly.

Erskine laughs while Stark’s lips part in momentary shock. With a shake of his head, he shrugs off the rejection and his lips return to a charming grin. “Where are you and Phillips finding these girls? First Agent Carter, now this one?”

“You were commissioned for the head on your shoulders, Mr. Stark. The females working on this project should be of no concern to you.” The somewhat harsh blow of Erskine’s words is softened by the smile of amusement on his face.

Howard doesn’t take it to heart, laughing as well. “I understand. Well, can I at least show you both around?”

“We are actually here to observe the recruitment station. The Colonel has given us a week to find our man. We were hoping the selection here might provide something new.”

“Ah,” Howard remarks. “Well then, I won’t keep you. Feel free to stop by the Modern Marvel’s Pavilion. Perhaps we can all grab lunch.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Erskine neither confirms nor denies the invitation and ushers you into the recruitment center.

“He’s certainly a handful,” you comment, no longer able to hold your amusement.

Erskine releases a long sigh. “Sometimes it is a wonder that he can get anything accomplished. His mind is brilliant, but he can be easily distracted. Though, I am starting to wonder… if not even the great Howard Stark can hold your interest, I am fascinated to find out the man that will.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “Maybe you will meet him one day.”

Dr. Erskine speaks with the head physician of the recruitment office, establishing a protocol for directing prospective enlisters his way for additional questioning. He then gives you instructions on the qualities he is looking for, so you can also help to keep an eye out with him.

You spend the day interviewing enlisters. You pretend to be invested, but know that none of them are going to be the correct one. Steve isn’t supposed to show up to this recruitment center until this weekend after Stark’s big show. You had planned to drop into the timeline several days before his recruitment, in case you needed the extra time to get your hands on a sample of serum. Your first day wasn’t quite going as expected, but it could be worse.

Erskine comes to collect you at the end of the day to see how your interviews have been going. When he offers for you to join him for dinner, you readily agree, only then realizing how hungry you are. The two of you walk away from the crowds of the Expo and back into the city.

You find a small family-owned diner to grab a quick bite to eat. Getting seated at a booth near the windows, you watch the people pass by while you wait for your food to come.

“My apologies for taking so long to ask, but I have come to realize that I do not know your name,” Dr. Erskine pulls your attention back to him.

“Oh,” you start. Realizing that you also had never introduced yourself. “Well, my friends call me Vic.”

“Friends?” he repeats with a raised brow.

You realize your mistake a little too late. As the head scientist of the SSR, he was technically considered your superior. It’s been so long since you’ve worked with a superior that _wasn’t_ your friend. Also, with one that you weren’t sleeping with…

You clear your throat and try again. “What I mean is that I haven’t really gone by my given name in a long time. It almost feels foreign whenever I do hear it.”

Erskine looks at you curiously. “And this Vic name was given to you by your friends?”

“Yes,” you confirm, before growing a little shy. “It’s actually short for Lady Victory,” you explain, your face heating in embarrassment. You’ve never actually had to be the one explaining it to anyone.

“Lady Victory?” he repeats, both brows now raised in intrigue. “And how did you manage to earn that name?”

“Well,” you laugh lightly. “It started after a few successful rounds of poker.” That makes Erskine laugh as well. “But, once I started working in the field, the name stuck. I became a lucky charm of sorts. Everyone would say that there was no way we could fail as long as Lady Victory was on our side. And that held true, at least until…” Your voice falls away and your eyes grow hollow. _At least until the last mission._

“You have been to the war front?”

You pull yourself out of your dark thoughts and focus back on the doctor. “No. Not this war, at least. But I have seen war. Up close. It’s never easy.”

Erskine nods in agreement. He sits quietly for a moment, considering your words. “Have you considered submitting yourself as a candidate for Project Rebirth?”

You had reached for your glass of water and taken a sip when he asked his question. You choke upon swallowing the drink. _So much for not screwing up the timeline_. You’re pretty sure this conversation was never supposed to happen. You set your glass back down and attempt to cough the water out from where it’s trying to reach your lungs.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you. But I must admit, you do have several of the qualities I am looking for in a candidate.”

After you’ve managed to catch your breath, you try to figure out the best way out of this. “The offer is generous, but that’s not my destiny.”

“What happened to faith?” Dr. Erskine smiles cryptically.

“I have faith that we will find the right person. But I know that isn’t me.” You release a breath of relief when the waitress arrives with the food. “Besides, can you imagine the Colonel’s reaction if you were to tell him you had picked a woman for the project?”

Erskine shrugs his shoulder. “He has been making his threats for months, but he knows that I will not make the serum until we have a candidate that I approve of.”

You can actually hear the record scratch sound effect going off in your mind. “Wait, I thought the Colonel said your formula was ready.”

“The formula, yes. I have all the ingredients ready. But the serum itself must be used within hours of preparation or the components will begin to degrade. It is a side effect from some of the ingredients used, but also works as a failsafe, should anyone think that they could steal it.”

You try to keep your face neutral, but internally your heart is sinking. This means that you coming early was a wasted effort and your only shot at getting a sample of the serum would be the day they turn Steve into a Super Soldier. And not only that but if you did manage to get your hands on a sample, it could degrade before being of any use to Dr. Banner.

In an effort to keep the despair off your face, you steer the conversation away and start to dig into the food that you no longer feel hungry for. Dr. Erskine turns out to be fairly good company and enjoys regaling you with tales of his home in Germany. It helps to keep him talking, so you can mentally plan just how you’re going to make it through these next few weeks, stuck in 1943.

Erskine offers to cover the cost of dinner, which you agree to, but only if he will let you pay for the next meal. He seems caught off guard by your proposal but then agrees with a quiet chuckle. As you prepare to leave, he places his fedora back onto his head and folds his coat over his arm. He then holds the door open as you exit the diner.

You both walk down the sidewalk in the direction toward the expo, occasionally needing to move behind one another to make room for people heading in the other direction. A flash of movement catches your attention from across the street. You narrow your gaze at the two men walking in the same direction as you and Erskine. They are both wearing fairly nondescript outfits in dark, neutral tones. Also wearing fedoras that they use to shadow their eyes. You notice one has a camera in his hands.

You quicken your steps to match up with the doctor, then wrap your arm through his. He looks down at you slightly startled, but you don’t pay him any mind. “Darling, that dress is lovely. Why don’t we take a look inside?” You point toward the display of a boutique and quickly usher him into the shop.

“Miss Vic, we really should be heading back to the recruitment center,” Dr. Erskine begins to protest.

You hush him and pull him deeper into the shop. “We were being followed. I noticed those two men loitering outside the bar across the street when we were at the diner. They stayed the whole time and didn’t begin to move until we did.”

“Are you certain?” he questions, looking back, but you’ve already pulled him too far into the shop.

“I am. One of them pulled out a camera and was trying to take pictures of you.”

“Hello, how can I help you?” the shop attendant takes that moment to make herself known.

You put a sweet smile into your face. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you have a back door? It seems we’ve gotten a little turned around and we’re actually supposed to be on the next street over.”

The woman looks at you curiously, “Oh, we do, but it leads to a back alley, not the main street.”

“That’s all right. I’m sure we’ll find our way. Thank you!” Before she can come up with a response, you’re pulling Erskine after you and out the back. You check to make sure the coast is clear, before dragging him out. You run as fast as you can in your heels down the back alley toward the next street. You stop just short of the alley opening and press your back into the brick wall. Peaking around the corner, you find that the men aren’t anywhere to be seen.

You step out with Erskine and quickly hail a taxi. Not conforming to societal rules, you yank open the back door and shove him into the seat. “Don’t head directly for the expo. Drive aimlessly first, check for any tails. If you don’t see any, stop and switch to a new taxi before heading back.”

“What are you going to do?” he questions, still thrown off by what’s happening.

“I’m going to make sure they won’t follow you.”

You quickly shut the door to the cab and bang on the top to send it off. You then duck back into the alley. You’re almost to the back entrance of the boutique when the two men come stumbling out.

“You boys lost?” you question with an innocent tone to your voice. The two take one look at you before looking around for your charge. “I’m afraid it’s just the three of us.”

“We ain’t got no beef with you, Toots,” one of the men states in a heavy Brooklyn accent.

Your innocent façade drops instantly. Darting forward, you grab the man by the lapel of his coat. You use his surprise against him to swing his whole body around and slam his back into the brick wall. Your movement knocks the wind out of him and you quickly pin your forearm to the base of his neck to keep him from being able to regain his breath. “Who you callin’ Toots?” you question with a deadly tone in your voice.

“Geez, lady!” The man chokes out, raising his hands in surrender.

“Back up, if you don’t want to get hurt!”

You look over your shoulder to find the other one has a pistol aimed at you. Rolling your eyes, you release the first one and step back, your own hands now up in surrender. In a flash, you whip your arm out, grasping the gun and kick your foot out, straight into his knee. His leg buckles from beneath him and he loosens his hold on the gun as he falls.

You take the weapon into your own hands, holding it over him, while he kneels at your feet. “I think you’ll find that it’s actually _you_ who should be worried about getting hurt, Toots,” you tell him, sarcasm dripping from your tone.

You catch the movement of the man’s eyes and turn back toward his partner, just a moment too late. The sound of a gun firing echoes down the alley moments before pain explodes in your side.

You cry out, barely managing to keep your grip on your own gun as you stumble into the brick wall.

“You shot her?!” the one kneeling bellows.

“She had a gun to your head!” The other argues.

“Red Skull’s gonna kill us if he finds out we were caught!”

“Not if we finish her off,” the one that shot you once begins to turn.

Your hand shakes as you try to raise your gun back up to defend yourself.

“ _Hey! Get away from her!_ ” A new voice enters the fray.

The two men look to see some else running into the alley. They are coming from your back and you fear if you attempt to look at who it is, you might pass out from the pain.

“Let’s get out of here,” the one that shot you tucks his gun away and helps pull the other to their feet. They take off before the newcomer can reach them.

“Miss, are you alright?”

This gunshot wound must be affecting you more than you thought because you could swear their voice sounds like-

Gentle hands grasp your shoulders as you stumble. You lift your head to meet a worried gaze. Soft blue eyes, framed by thick lashes, and two furrowed brows. It’s a look you’re all too familiar with and it always makes your heart clench.

Seeing it this time also makes your head swoon and your stomach flip. “Steve?” you barely manage to get out before your legs collapse.


	2. Chapter 2

“Whoa! Hang on!” He doesn’t quite have the strength to keep you standing. But he follows you down as you collapse to make sure you don’t hurt yourself even more. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your body into a frame much smaller than you’re used to.

The gun in your hand clatters to the floor and you then press that hand into your throbbing side.

Steve blanches when he sees the weapon. “Is that yours?” he questions.

You shake your head weakly. “No. It was one of theirs.”

His brows raise in surprise. He knows that dames carrying weapons were more likely to have them taken by their assailants, not the other way around.

You look down at the hand clutched to your side, peeling your palm back to see that it’s completely covered in red. “Shit,” you curse, gritting your teeth. You close your eyes tight and tilt your head back against the brick wall, attempting to will the pain away, so it’s not completely clouding your senses.

Steve follows your line of sight and pales when he sees your blood. “Oh my God… I need to get you to a hospital.”

“No!” Your eyes snap open and you grip the collar of his shirt. “No hospitals,” You urge. You can’t be tied down to a hospital bed and potentially miss your window of opportunity. “I just,” you huff, your head dizzy now from the rapid movement. “Need to get someplace safe.”

“Miss… You’ve been shot. If we don’t get you-”

Your groan of pain cuts him off as you push yourself into a more upright position. “Is there blood on my back?” you question breathlessly.

“Wha-” Steve gapes for a second, before leaning over your body to check. “Yes…” he confirms. “A lot.” He leans back once more the look of concern returning to his eyes tenfold.

“That’s actually a good thing.” You tell him. “Means it’s a clean shot. Through and through. A hospital’s not going to be able to do anything that I can’t do myself with a bit of first aid.”

Steve finds himself only wanting to ask more questions, but he knows if you don’t start applying that first aid quickly, then you really will need a hospital. “My apartment is just around the corner,” he offers without thought.

More likely to run straight into trouble rather than think things through, it doesn’t even cross Steve’s mind that maybe he shouldn’t get mixed up in whatever this is. He grabs the gun, knowing that it wouldn’t be a good idea to just leave it behind. He looks around the alley to make sure there aren’t any other witnesses.

“Do you think you can stand?” he asks, almost wishing Bucky was around to carry you, but he knows Barnes would have his head over this.

You nod once, shifting one arm around his shoulders while removing the one from your side to grip the brick wall for purchase. You mentally count to three before pushing yourself up, Steve trying to do what he can to help. You release a guttural cry of pain with the movement and your vision goes black for a second. You hold still, keeping your grip on Steve and on the wall while you huff for breath.

You wait for your vision to clear and for your head to stop spinning before you give Steve a nod. “Okay. Let’s go.” You bite your lip to keep your whimpers in while you limp along with Steve holding you up.

It’s slow progress to make it down the alley and into a small courtyard area surrounded by apartment buildings. “I’m on the second floor,” Steve gives you an apologetic look when you reach the base of a set of metal stairs.

You release a long breath and grit your teeth before taking them on. Each step feels like an icepick getting jammed into your side. You nearly pass out after reaching the top but managed to keep it together a few more steps to reach his front door.

Steve is immensely grateful that he remembered his key this morning and doesn’t need to fumble around looking for it. The door opens with a push and he quickly shuffles you inside. He helps to lower your body onto the modest brown couch in his living room that Bucky got from him at a yard sale. The cushions are a little stained, no matter how he’s tried to clean them, the pillows are mismatched, and there’s a soft floral perfume scent permanently attached to the thing from the previous owner.

You give yourself a second to catch your breath before you begin pulling your shirt out from where it’s tucked into your skirt and start undoing the buttons. Steve’s eyes widen and his ears turn pink when you completely remove your top. You catch the way that he stares and would laugh if you weren’t in so much pain. You mentally pat yourself on the back for getting the vintage lingerie set for Steve’s birthday a few years ago. It certainly came in handy to keep your whole outfit authentic.

“Do you have clean linen and hot water?” you ask, needing to give him something to do for a quick moment.

He snaps out of it and nods. “Yeah,” he confirms before disappearing deeper into the apartment.

You wait for a second to make sure he’s really gone before hiking up your skirt to unclip the small pouch you have attached to your thigh holster. Opening the pouch, you turn it over to dump the contents onto the couch cushion next to you. A slim metal case, about the size and shape of a smartphone, falls out first, followed by what may appear to be a series of Barbie doll accessories. There’s a tiny red bag with a white cross that you pick out from the items.

Everything else goes back into the pouch before you open the metal case and reveal the series of discs inside. The ones on the left have red in their center, while the ones on the right have blue. You take a blue disc and throw it at the miniature first aid bag, allowing it to grow back to normal size.

“Thank you, Scott Lang,” you mutter under your breath, closing the metal case and returning it to the pouch. You clip the pouch back to your thigh holster and pull your skirt back down.

You have the first aid bag open and are rifling through the various compartments when Steve comes back into the room. He stops short and looks at you with confusion. “…Where did you get that?”

You turn to see him standing in the doorway, a few hand towels draped over his shoulder while he carries a large ceramic bowl. “Oh, that’s perfect.” You indicate for him to bring the items over. Ignoring his question.

Pulling a packet of painkillers from your kit, you rip open the foil and take them dry. You follow that up with a drop of hand sanitizer into your palm and work the liquid gel over your hands and between your fingers. Steve places the bowl of water at your feet and kneels down next to it. You then hand him the bottle of sanitizer.

“What is this?” he questions.

“Isopropyl alcohol mixed with aloe gel. It will disinfect your hands. You just need a small drop.”

“Okay…” he looks a little unsure, but follows your lead and drops some into his palm. He hands the bottle back and mimics your earlier movement to spread the gel. He then drops a towel into the bowl, letting it soak up the water before he wrings it out and folds it into a neat square.

You thank him softly when he hands it to you and you then press it to the wound on your front. “Can you get the exit wound?” you ask.

He nods once, wringing out a second towel and then presses it firmly to your back. He tries his best to keep his focus on the task at hand, despite having your breasts, pretty much at eye level. Before this, the closest he’s ever been to seeing a woman dressed in only a brasserie is the mannequins at Macy’s. What in the world would Bucky think, if he found out there was a half-naked woman in Steve’s apartment right now? The bastard would probably congratulate him, honestly.

“That should be good enough.” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “Just clear the dried blood from around the wound.” You’ve gone back to rifling in your kit and pull out a small aerosol canister. The cap comes off with a pop and you quickly aim and spray directly onto the wound at your front. The substance inside comes out as a sort of gel spray, but soon begins to froth and bubble where it makes contact with the wound. “Here,” you give the can to Steve.

He takes it hesitantly. “That looks like it hurts.”

You laugh dryly. “It’s a gunshot wound. It already hurts.”

 _Can’t argue with that_. Steve aims the canister and sprays the mystery substance onto your back wound. You take the canister back, cap it, and put it away. You can already feel the gel beginning to work its magic. Given to you by Shuri during one of your visits with Steve to Wakanda, the gel was a coagulant to stop bleeding, but also could promote cell regeneration to expedite the healing process, and even worked as a numbing agent to dull the pain. It certainly helps when getting to this next part.

“How are you with needles?” you ask, pulling out a curved needle and some stitching thread next.

He gulps audibly before he slowly nods. He and Bucky have had to stitch each other up, more than a few times, but neither of them were surgeons by any means.

Seeing the worry on his face, you try to ease his fears. “It doesn’t need to be perfect, just enough to keep the wound closed. The gel will be able to take care of the rest.”

“Okay,” he agrees, taking the needle and thread from you.

With the gel and the painkillers beginning to take over, you finally have a clear enough head to actually be able to take him in. It’s a little strange seeing him like this in person. You’d seen the photo that gets taken at Camp Lehigh and your Steve had eventually opened up enough to paint his own picture of what his life had been like pre-serum. But you never thought you’d see it with your own eyes.

His clothes hang loose around his frame, nearly engulfing him. The air of stoic confidence you’d grown used to is nowhere to be seen. His shoulders are rigid, back tense, and he almost looks a little uncomfortable to be so close to you. That’s certainly different. The Steve you knew had always been comfortable around you, even from the day you met.

You had been working at the SHIELD Headquarters in New York when Steve’s body was found in the Arctic. You didn’t actually get a chance to meet him at the point, and after the Battle of New York, you were relocated to the other side of the country. Then, after SHIELD fell, you ended up moving overseas. It wasn’t until after the whole Ultron fiasco that you were recruited by Natasha to check out the Avenger’s compound in upstate New York.

You’ll never forget the look on his face when Nat stepped out of the way to introduce you. His eyes had lit up like the sun peeking out behind a cloud and when he smiled your heart had stopped. You’re also pretty sure you may have swooned a little. He shook your hand and held it tight. You remember how he had looked deeply into your eyes like he was seeing into your very soul, and then his gaze flickered all over your face like he was painting your picture in his mind. He then welcomed you to the Avengers, without even giving you an initiation test.

You try to find hints of that Steve in this one. The more you look, the easier they are to find. The eyes are obvious. Highly expressive that he has a hard time concealing his emotions. His brows still furrow the same when he’s trying to concentrate. His ears are still red, which is a good sign. This means he’s not _completely_ unaffected by you.

“My name’s Vic, by the way,” you introduce yourself just as he’s finishing up the stitching on your front wound.

His gaze lifts up to meet yours. “Steve. Though, somehow you already seem to know that.”

You give him a look of confusion, trying to understand what he means, but then you recall saying his name when he first reached you in the alley. You quickly try to come up with an excuse. “I didn’t, actually. You look like someone I know. His name is also Steve,” you try to play off. Badly.

“Huh. Small world.” The corner of his mouth tilts up into the barest hint of a smirk. It’s still enough to make your heart race.

Even 95 pounds soaking wet, you’ve still got it bad for this man.

You hand him a pair of small surgical scissors to cut the thread. While he gets to work on stitching up your exit wound, you grab the supplies you need to finish triaging the front wound. You apply a small amount of disinfectant cream over the stitches before packing it with sterile gauze and taping the gauze to your skin. Steve helps you do the same on your back once he’s finished with the stitches there. After that, you take a long strip of self-adherent bandage tape to completely wrap your torso.

“That should do it. Thanks, Steve,” you send him a smile as you begin to pack up and close your first aid kit.

“Is that standard-issue?” Steve askes, nodding to your kit.

You breathe out a soft laugh. “Not quite,” you respond cryptically. “But a girl’s gotta be prepared.”

He raises a brow. “Do you often find yourself running into men with guns in back alleys?”

You mimic his look. “Do you often find yourself running toward the sound of gunfire rather than away?”

He blinks once, then shrugs, his shoulders relaxing a little. “More often than I should, if Bucky had anything to say about it.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing outright. “This Bucky sounds like he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Maybe you should listen to him more often.”

He scoffs. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

“Trust me when I tell you that getting shot really isn’t high on the list of things I’d consider fun,” you tell him with a grimace.

The sobers him. “No, I imagine it wouldn’t.” He drops his gaze and busies himself by rinsing your blood off his hands with the water in the bowl that has started to turn pink. “So, what does ‘Lady V’ mean?” he asks, the curiosity getting to him.

He looks up and catches the confusion in your eyes before his gaze drops to your chest. You realize he’s talking about the tattoo written in a curling script below your right collar bone, the letters framed on either side by a pair of small wings. Your Steve had actually been the one to design it for you.

“It stands for Lady Victory,” you explain. “It’s my code name.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You’re an agent?” he questions like he can’t believe it. His cheeks then flush as he attempts to backtrack. “I mean- not that you couldn’t be. It’s just you’re so beautiful, you could have been anything. And not that there’s anything wrong with being an agent, it’s just-”

“Steve…” You say his name gently, trying to get him to breathe, while a smile of amusement creeps onto your face.

“Sorry,” he mutters, dropping his gaze once more and releases a long breath. “Just, why go for something that’s so high risk?”

You take a moment to compose your thoughts, trying to figure out how best to answer his question. “We all have things that call to us. Be it duty or a sense of purpose… I don’t know. It just always felt like the right path for me. And believe it or not, looking like just another pretty face can actually be advantageous in this line of work. People will often underestimate you.”

Steve releases a long sigh. “The underestimating part I could handle. Been dealing with that my whole life. But I can’t even get enlisted. They take one look at my medical record and write me off before even giving me a chance. How did you do it?”

You realize where he’s trying to steer the conversation. At this point, he would have already tried to enlist and thus been rejected, four times. “Just because it’s the right path doesn’t mean it’s the easiest. Keep trying. Keep moving forward and eventually, you’ll end up where you’re meant to be.”

He shoots you a wry smile. “You make it sound so simple.”

You huff out a laugh. “Oh, it’s definitely not. But if it were, it wouldn’t be quite as satisfying when you finally succeed.”

He releases a low hum, letting your words sink in. “So, Lady Victory…” he says like he’s tasting the words in his mouth. “Is that where ‘Vic’ comes from?”

“It is,” you confirm.

He nods like he’s pondering over something else. “A guy takes you in off the street, then helps you patch up a bullet wound, and you don’t even give him your real name?”

You can’t help but grin at his cheekiness.

“I mean, Bucky probably won’t even believe the story to begin with.”

That promptly wipes the grin from your face. “Steve, you can’t tell _anyone_ that I was here. Not even Bucky,” you urge desperately. You’re already terrified that there are going to be ramifications from this interaction, you have to try to prevent it from rippling out even further. “I… I should go.”

“Go?” he repeats, startled.

You turn to grab the first aid kit and your blood-soaked shirt, wincing when the movement tugs at your wound. “I’ve already put you in enough danger as is.”

“Do you think those men will come back?”

You shake your head, feeding your arm through the sleeve of the shirt on your injured side, and pull it up onto your shoulder with your good arm. “I don’t know. They might.”

You feel Steve’s hand settle over yours, stopping your movements. You pause and meet his gaze. “Well then, all the more reason you should stay. They won’t find you here and I can’t send you back out there injured and into the night.”

“Steve…” You know you shouldn’t. The longer you stay, the more you’ll risk messing up the timeline. But looking into his eyes, you can’t find the strength to pull away. The image of your Steve laying in the hospital bed looking steps away from death’s door pops into your head. Comparing that to the one in front of you; alive, breathing, vibrant… It makes you want to grab onto him with both hands and never let go.

“Stay,” he repeats once more.

“Okay,” you find yourself breathing the word out without thought.

His eyes soften and his hand gently squeezes yours before he pulls back. “And I promise not to tell anyone about you as long as you give me your real name.”

You huff out a laugh, dropping your head and shoulders. “You’re a sly one, I’ll give you that much.” Lifting your gaze back to his, you tell him your full name.

He grins victoriously and you can feel yourself falling in love with him all over again. He holds his hand out for you to shake. “Steve Rogers.”

You find yourself matching his grin as you place your hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve Rogers.”

Your hands shake once before he pulls back and moves to stand on his feet. “Now, how about I get you something to wear that’s not covered in blood and bullet holes?”

You look down at the shirt you only have half on, your cheeks flushing with heat. “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

He moves deeper into the apartment once more, leaving you alone. You pull your shirt back off and lift it up to take in the damage. It’s pretty bad. Even if you could get the bloodstains out, the two bullet holes didn’t really help matters. Huffing, you toss it into the bowl of water and do the same with the two damp towels, also covered in your blood.

You grunt quietly as you attempt to push yourself up and off the couch. The pain killers may have dulled a majority of the pain, but movement causes a sharp sting to push through. You kneel onto the floor and try to keep your torso as straight as possible as you lift the bowl into your arms and straighten back up. The movement is a bit awkward, but you manage successfully without pulling your stitches.

You follow Steve’s direction to head deeper into the apartment in search of the kitchen. It’s not difficult to find, as the apartment is fairly small. A short hallway separates the living room from the remainder of the apartment, with the hall opening into the kitchen on the left and with the bedroom and bathroom doors on either side to the right. There is light pouring out of the open bedroom door and the sound of Steve rifling through various drawers and his closet.

You turn into the kitchen and set the bowl down into the sink. Tipping out the bloody water, you open the tap from the faucet to fill the bowl once more. There’s a bar of soap on the edge of the sink next to the faucet, which you grab and start rubbing into one of the towels to work up a lather.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve’s voice sounds from behind you.

You glance over your shoulder to see him standing there, some folded, striped pajamas in his hands. “I didn’t want to stain your towels,” you tell him.

He moves in next to you. “I’ll take care of that. You just worry about healing your injury.”

You set down the soap and towel, rinsing your hands clean. There’s a fresh hand towel by the sink, which you use to dry your hands before taking the offered clothing. “Thank you, Steve,” you tell him, holding the clothes to your chest. He nods once, dipping his head to avoid your gaze. He never was any good at accepting gratitude. “Really.” You insist. “I don’t know many people that would take in a complete stranger and help them the way you’ve helped me.”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “Bucky is always telling me that I’m reckless in my pursuit of doing what I think is right.”

_Isn’t that the damn truth…_

“Besides,” he continues. “You’re also pretty trusting of a complete stranger that offered to take you in.”

Your sweet laughter reminds him of springtime. “I’m a pretty good judge of character,” you tell him, smiling brightly. It lightens your heart to see him relax just a bit more around you. Your fingers fiddle with the fabric of the clothes in your arms. “Well, I should probably go get changed. Thank you, again, for these.”

“Oh, sure,” he sweeps his arm to the side, gesturing for you to walk past. “They’re actually Bucky’s, so I hope they fit okay. I figured my clothes might be too small…”

You catch the slight shift in his demeanor when he brings up one of his biggest insecurities, pre-serum.

Reaching out, you gently touch a curled finger to the underside of his chin. You guide his face back up until he meets your eyes once more. “Chin up, Rogers. You’re looking far too glum for a man that’s got a half-naked woman walking around his apartment.”

You grin teasingly when his whole face goes red. “Oh, I-I didn’t look!” Almost instinctively, his eyes dip down the length of your body, before they widen in horror when he realizes what he’s just done.

You giggle girlishly. “Don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you.” You then turn and step out of the kitchen to head for the bathroom.

With the door firmly shut and locked behind you, a long breath slips past your lips. “Girl, what are you doing?” you whisper to yourself.

Stepping over to the sink, you muster the courage to look at yourself in the mirror. You look a little worse for wear, but that certainly comes with the territory of getting shot. Your lipstick is smudged and your hair is a mess. You can’t do much about a shower right now with your freshly tended to wound, but hopefully, by the morning, the healing gel will have had enough time to make at least that possible.

Removing your thigh holster, you open the pouch again and use another particle disc to bring your toiletry bag back to size. You run through your night routine as quickly, yet carefully as possible, feeling the tension of the day beginning to weigh on you, and now all you want to do is sleep. With makeup removed and teeth brushed, you manage to track down and extract all the hairpins from your hair. From there, you move on to shedding the remainder of your rumpled uniform, including your stockings and heels. The sight of blood down the back of your skirt makes you grimace when you realize it’s probably gotten onto Steve’s couch, too.

Unhooking the back of your bra is a bit difficult to manage while injured, but eventually, you get it. You slide the garment off, letting it pool to the floor. Checking in the mirror, you find that your undies didn’t make it unscathed either from all the bloodshed. With a sigh, you push them off your hips and down your legs.

You dig through the cupboards and drawers under the sink until you find a clean washcloth. After soaking it and wringing it out, you use the damp cloth to remove the last bit of dried blood from your skin before sliding into the pajamas. God, they’re so vintage. Baby blue and white vertical stripes with a pocket square on the left breast. You make the adjustments you need to feel a little more comfortable in them; rolling the cuffs and pants, and tying the drawstring.

You run both your undies and skirt under the tap, rinsing as much blood as you can out of them, but anything more than that will need to be dealt with in the morning. You fold the skirt in on itself, leaving the dry side out and the damp side in, with your undies tucked inside as well.

You then find a place to hide your toiletries, not wanting to use a particle disc just yet, since you’ll need them in the morning, along with your first aid kit. Gathering your clothes and holster into your arms, you venture out of the bathroom. You can look into Steve’s room from across the hall and find him standing next to his closet, buttoning up the shirt of his own pajamas.

Like a moth to a flame, you find yourself entering the space. His scent hits you and it brings tears to your eyes because he still smells the same. Walking into his room here smells exactly like walking into his room at the compound. It smells like coming home.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, noting the slightly distressed look on your face.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts and force a smile. “Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Well, you should lie down, then.” He indicates to the full-sized bed, with a corner of the covers pulled back already.

You move toward it, setting your clothes on the bedside table next to a small lamp and reach out to finger the covers. You turn and take a seat on the mattress. It’s a bit lumpy, but the fatigue is really starting to settle in, so you’re sure it won’t matter.

Steve watches you for a moment before turning to leave the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” you ask.

He stops, turning to you in surprise. “I was going to sleep in the living room,” he states like it’s obvious.

The distressed look comes back to your face. “Will you stay?” you ask, your vulnerability cracking through. Last night, while he lay dying in the infirmary on the other side of the compound, you’d struggled to sleep by yourself in a room that smelled like him. No matter how exhausted you felt, you know you won’t be able to sleep comfortably if you had to do that again.

He looks a little conflicted. “Are you sure?” he questions.

You hold his gaze when you nod.

“Okay…” he relents, though he still sounds unsure.

As he begins to head over, you turn to push the covers back and shuffle toward the other side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” he questions, stopping his movement as he was preparing to walk to the side you’re currently settling into.

“Moving, so you don’t have to sleep by the window,” you respond automatically as you settle under the covers. It’s one of his weird quirks that you’ve grown used to. He’d explained once that before the serum, sleeping near the window would make his asthma worse if there was a slight draft. After the serum though, he still didn’t like it, because he’d grown more sensitive to lights and sound. So, you always took the window side wherever you both slept together.

You pat the empty space of the mattress and grin, “Come on, Steve. I don’t bite. I promise.”

He reaches to turn off the bedside lamp before he slowly lowers himself down onto the mattress, legs tucking under the blanket. He looks like he’s ready to bolt at a moment’s notice as he lays on his back and stares up at the ceiling. You lay on your side, so you won’t irritate the stitches on your front and back while you sleep. You tuck your hands under your pillow and close your eyes.

A few moments of silence pass. “Steve, you’re never going to fall asleep if you keep your muscles tense like that,” you whisper in the dark.

You feel his body shift around slightly beneath the covers. “Sorry… I’ve never done this before,” he admits.

You want to laugh because he’s freaking adorable, but you hold it in. “Turn on your side,” you encourage. He hesitates a moment before complying and turning onto his side to face you. “Close your eyes.” There’s just enough street light coming in from the window to be able to see him. He holds your gaze for a second before his eyes close and he releases a long breath.

You untuck one of your hands and reach up to gently run your fingers through his hair. He tenses up even more with the first touch, but your nails scratch at his scalp in a way that makes him shiver. Your hand slips down the back of his head and curls underneath his ear before you move back up to his forehead and do it again.

The longer you keep doing that, the more the tension eases from his body, until he’s completely relaxed. Just a few more passes of your fingers through his hair and soon his breath evens out as he falls asleep. Your hand curls around the bottom of his ear one more time before your palm settles on the edge of his jaw.

He looks the same when he sleeps here as he does in your time. His features soften, that pinch no longer between his brow and the stern tilt of his mouth eases up. He gains an air of innocence and loses the weight of the world that he carries on his shoulders.

You watch over him for a minute. Memorizing his features before you shift closer. You dip your head down, tucking it beneath his chin to bury your face into his chest and you gently wrap an arm around his waist. He stirs a little but doesn’t awaken.

He feels different, but you’re still able to draw comfort from his closeness. A huge portion of the weight he normally carries has now fallen to your shoulders, and God, are you feeling it. If you fail in getting a sample of the formula, or if you take too long and the components break down before you’re able to get it to Dr. Banner, then these may very well be the last moments you’ll get to share with Steve.

If there’s any hope of salvaging the timeline, you’ll disappear by morning and be nothing but a dream to him. If you forsake the timeline and stay, not only could you mess up your chances of getting the serum, but there will also be the potential for a domino effect to spiral out and shift the entire course of Steve’s future. Could you really risk that just for a few more days of basking in his presence?

On the flip side, do you really have the strength to walk away? Sure, you’re terrified of failing the mission, but you’re even more terrified of losing out on your last few moments together, should you fail. And what if, by some tiny miracle, you could have your cake and eat it too? What if you could succeed _and_ still spend time with him.

If there’s one thing you know for certain… you’re not ready to let him go.

Just as that thought crosses your mind, Steve’s arm curls around your waist, pinning your body against his.

Taking that as a sign, you push all remaining thoughts out and settle comfortably against his chest. You’ll stay till morning and then see how the rest pans out. For now, you’re safe in his arms and you’re going to cherish this as much as possible. With eyes closed and legs tangled, it doesn’t take long for you to join Steve in the realm of sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When Steve wakes up in the morning, it’s to a feeling he hasn’t felt in a really long time. Warmth, security, and something a little new to him. He feels the gentle weight of your arm over his waist and the flutter of your breath against his collar bone. He almost doesn’t want to open his eyes for the fear that he’ll wake up from this dream.

He counts to ten before blinking his eyes open and his heart nearly stops at the sight before him. Bathed in the morning sun, your hair frames your face like a glowing halo. You look ethereal and serene, lips parted ever so slightly, your face relaxed. It makes him want to grab his sketchbook if he knew that moving wouldn’t wake you.

He settles for tracing over your features with his gaze. Memorizing every detail, so that he might be able to recreate the image later. He doesn’t know what he did right to have this literal angel fall into his lap. He’d almost been certain that he was going to wake up alone in his bed. That last night had been some sort of fever dream.

Yet, here you are. Asleep in his arms. As real as the air in his lungs.

He really doesn’t want to ruin this moment by waking you, but nature is calling and it would be his damn luck to have an accident in bed while a beautiful woman slept next to him. “Vic,” he whispers, not wanting to startle you. However, he says it a little too soft, and you continue to sleep soundly. Unwinding his arm from around your waist, his fingers curl from the top of your hair and down your temple. “Vic,” he says once again, his voice a little rough from sleep.

You inhale deeply through your nose, your body shifting and rubbing up against his. That makes him go stiff as he becomes acutely aware of the reaction this instills in his own body. “Steve…” his name slips from your parted lips with a pleasured lilt.

His eyes widen and he feels the heat crawling up his neck. “Vic, honey, you gotta wake up,” he urges a little more pressingly. He’s not sure where the term of endearment came from. It just slipped out.

Your eyes flutter and slowly blink open. Your head pulls back, away from his chest, before your eyes lift to his. Your lips split into a smile that rivals the sunlight filtering in through the window. “Morning…” you declare, in a cheerful, yet sleepy voice. Your arm lifts from his waist, so you can rub the tiredness from your eyes and then cover the yawn that escapes. “Oh, you probably need to use the bathroom,” you realize and begin to extract your tangled legs. Even as a Super Soldier, Steve had the tiniest bladder. He always needed to go first thing after waking up.

“Uh… thanks?” He looks a little confused but shuffles out of bed. He gives you one last glance over his shoulders before leaving the room.

You move to sit up, wincing slightly when you feel your stitches tug at your skin. It’s not exactly painful but feels uncomfortable. You’ll get a chance to check on the healing progress later. It might already be time to remove the stitches. Pushing the blankets off your legs, you carefully move to stand, keeping a hand pressed to the covered wound on your front. Once on your feet, you attempt a few simple stretches to test the strength of your torso and the integrity of the wounded area. There’s a very slight soreness, but it’s nearly unnoticeable.

You turn back to the bed and start to pull the sheets back into place. “You don’t have to do that,” Steve voices once again upon entering the room.

You glance up briefly, releasing a huffed laugh. “Force of habit.”

He moves back to his side of the bed, helping you tug the sheets and blankets back into place. You both then grab a pillow each, fluffing them up in the same manner and setting them back at the same time. It’s a morning ritual you’ve grown used to, but Steve gives you a strange look.

“Hey, do you mind if I use your shower?” you ask, both in an attempt to distract him and because you’re sure that your hair has only gotten worse by sleeping in it without washing the hairspray out.

“Oh, sure,” he agrees, stepping back. “And I think I still have one of my Ma’s old dresses that you can wear.” He turns and moves toward his closet, rolling back one of the double doors to reveal an old wooden dresser tucked into the space. He kneels down and opens the bottom drawer, lifting and tucking around a few different items before pulling out a folded cloth in a floral pattern.

He hands the dress to you, which you take graciously. You hold it tight to your chest, the meaning not lost on you at how much he has to trust you to offer his mother’s dress without hesitation. “Thank you, Steve.”

He nods, watching how you clutch the material as if you understand its importance before he meets your gaze. “It takes a while for the water to get hot, and then it doesn’t last very long. Clean towels are in the cupboard to the right of the sink.”

You smile sweetly. “Thanks for the forewarning.”

You step out of the bedroom and head for the living room first to grab the first aid kit, which you left on the couch, before backtracking down the hall into the bathroom. After closing and locking the door, you place the dress gently on the closed toilet seat and begin to unbutton your pajama shirt. It falls unceremoniously off your shoulders and onto the floor.

Stepping toward the sink, you begin to unwrap the bandage from around your waist and carefully peel back the taped gauze pack. You can’t help the chuckle of slight disbelief when you look down at the nearly healed wound. You would never know how Shuri did it, but her gel was an absolute godsend. You’ve used some of it before, but never for something this bad. You’ll have to find a way to thank her once you get back.

You open up your first aid kit and pull out the surgical scissors, cleaning them off with an alcohol wipe, and then start snipping and removing the stitching thread. Getting the stitches on your back wound, while working through the mirror is a bit awkward, but you get it all eventually. You clean the scissors again before putting them back and take out the tube of disinfectant cream. You place that on the counter for later and shed your pajama pants next.

You grab a towel from the cupboard and pull your toiletry bag back out from where you stashed it the night before to grab the items you’ll need for your shower. Stepping into the porcelain tub, you swing the curtain around, the metal rings at the top clinking against the top bar. You spin the nobs to turn on the water and flip the switch to send it from the tub faucet to the showerhead.

The water that comes gushing out is frigid, but you don’t mind too terribly. You’ve had your fair share of cold showers, especially after that time you went on the run with Steve, Sam, and Nat after the Accords broke up the team. You were just happy to have running water against your scalp. It’s also nice to be able to reach up and work the water into your hair without feeling pain from your injury.

By the time you’ve got your shampoo building up a lather on your scalp, the water finally begins to warm. You adjust the knobs as necessary, hoping that by keeping it at a more lukewarm, the heat may last a little longer. This seems to be the right trick because it doesn’t start to cool until you’re just about finished.

Pushing the curtain back, you step onto the thin bath mat. You grab the towel to dry off your body and hair. You know you won’t have access to a blow drier in a man’s apartment, so the towel is the best you’ve got. With the towel wrapped and twisted around the top of your head, you step back up to the sink to apply the disinfectant cream over your wounds, then protect them with a single square, adhesive bandage over each one.

The floral dress is loose enough that you can step into it and pull it up your legs, feeding your arms through the short sleeves, before it settles on your shoulders. A soft lavender scent fills your lungs where it clings to the fabric from its original owner. You smooth your hand down the dress, sending your thoughts to the woman who wore it before you in the hopes that she won’t mind you borrowing it. It always makes you a little sad when you remember that you’ll never have a chance to meet the wonderful woman that raised the man you love. But wearing this dress helps you feel a little more connected, both to her and to Steve.

You pack your toiletries back into the bag and stash it once more before unwinding the towel from your hair and bundling it in your arms along with the borrowed pajamas. You step out of the bathroom and head back for Steve’s room. You find him sitting on the bed, already dressed for the day, and lacing up his boots. He pauses and looks up at your entrance. His lips part in awe, eyes widening.

“Wow…” he mutters quietly enough that you don’t think he noticed the slip.

You feel the heat in your face building. “It’s a beautiful dress,” you tell him sincerely, glancing down the length of the material.

He has to physically shake himself out of his thoughts, mouth closing as he looks away, embarrassed. “She’d be happy to hear that. It was one of her favorites.” He finishes lacing his boots before he stands. “She’d also be happy to see it getting used again.”

He walks over to you, taking the items from your arms and putting them in the hamper basket he has tucked in the corner of the room by the closet.

“Are you going out?” you question, noting his attire.

He nods, turning toward the dresser inside his still-open closet. He opens one of the single top drawers and pulls out a tie. “Yeah, I’m meeting with Bucky.” He turns up the collar of his shirt and hooks the tie around the back of his neck. “I promise I won’t tell him about you,” he quickly puts in, glancing over at you. His body seems to turn of its own accord when you step up to him; his hands falling away when yours take their place on the fabric of the tie.

“I know you won’t.” You assure him, pulling the length of the tie to one side before beginning to wrap the material around itself. “I trust you.”

You finish tying the knot and tighten it neatly to the base of his neck, noting how his Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. Your gaze flicks up, catching the look on his face. He looks just about ready to jump out of his own skin. Your lips turn up into a smile of amusement, though you just barely manage to contain your laugh.

Steve takes a step back, hand smoothing over the length of his tie as his gaze drops from yours. “Um, thanks,” he mutters quietly.

You know you shouldn’t be teasing him like this, but there’s a part of you that can’t help it. Teasing your Steve normally ended with you getting stripped naked and thrown onto the bed. Or pushed up against the wall. Or bent over the couch… All that positive reinforcement for being naughty made it very difficult for you to behave now. Trying to respect his boundaries, you take your own step back to give him a little more space. “If you’re heading out, do you want me to leave too?” you question.

“You don’t have to,” he shakes his head. “You can stay as long as you need, while you recover. I… I trust you, too.” He doesn’t really know why he would admit that to you after only knowing you for half a day. He wasn’t generally a very trusting person. Being an outcast will do that to you. However, you don’t treat him like an outcast. In fact, you’ve been nothing but kind to him and somehow, he can feel in his heart that he really can trust you. He turns once more to the dresser and digs through the other top drawer. “Here,” he offers, holding out a small object in his hand. When you reach to take it, you realize it’s a key. “You can stay if you want. Or you can leave. You can just tuck it under the doormat if you’re gonna go.” Steve has a strange undertone to his words and he won’t meet your gaze. It’s like he knows that by giving you the option to leave on your own, he’ll surely be coming back to an empty apartment.

“Oh, thanks,” you say, unsure what the proper response is here.

“Well, I’m running late, so…” he leaves the words unfinished as he slides the closet door closed and steps around you.

You turn to watch him leave the room with a frown, unsure how his mood soured so quickly. “Steve,” you call after him, stepping into the living room and stopping his movements at the front door.

He looks back at you, hand on the doorknob. You’re not really sure what to say. Before you can come up with anything, he releases a long sigh, gaze dropping. In the next instant, he swings open the door and steps out.

You bite your lip, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. The Steve you know also had issues with saying goodbye. You always thought that it was from plunging into the ice and waking up in a completely different era. That saying goodbye meant there was an uncertainty of ever seeing each other again, and that made him uncomfortable because he knew all too well what it felt like to have an entire life stripped away. You realize now that the scars run even deeper than that. 

You try to think about what the best way to handle this is. You know that you can’t just disappear on him. Even if it’s what you _should_ do, the thought alone makes your stomach squirm and you know that you can’t do that to him.

You step into the kitchen, finding your shirt washed and dried on the small kitchen table. The two bullet holes have also been mended with some thread. You wonder if he had done that while you were in the shower. Your heart clenches. You know how sweet and thoughtful he can be, but he still manages to find ways to surprise you. Even here. You have an idea beginning to form in your mind of how you can repay him for the kindness he’s shown you.

You know that you at least need to track down and check-in with Dr. Erskine. With the way things were left last night, you wouldn’t be surprised if he waited for your return to the recruitment station and by now, he would be assuming the worst. It wouldn’t benefit you at all to have him running to Colonel Phillips to get an investigation started into your whereabouts, only to discover that your records with the SSR didn’t even exist.

But with a key to Steve’s apartment, nothing was preventing you from coming back… After all, it’s not like you exactly had a place to stay. You’d planned to spend your evenings at a hotel, if necessary, but why waste the money?

With your mind made up, you find a smile slowly beginning to grow on your face. Moving back into the bedroom, you grab the rest of your soiled clothing, so you can have it washed and leave it out to dry while you run your errands. You dump your skirt and panties into the sink, only now remembering that you were currently going commando.

It didn’t really bother you since you’ve done it plenty of times before. It was one of your favorite methods of teasing Steve. Also, it certainly helped with the ease of access to accomplish your end goal. You swear the man had a dick made out of gold, and boy, did he know how to use it. You remember asking him where he learned how to thoroughly fuck a woman’s brains out after your first time together. He had laughed, cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment and he told you that he’d had a good teacher. You assumed he meant Barnes. You never did get a chance to thank the man for his thorough lessons.

With the blood washed out of your skirt and underwear, you set them out to dry and head back for the bedroom. You open the pouch from your thigh holster and use a particle disc to enlarge your miniaturized vintage suitcase. Setting it on the ground in the corner of the room, you pop the latches and crack it open, pulling out a fresh set of undies and new stockings. You put on your undies first before sitting on the edge of the bed to slip the stockings up each leg, the elastic tightening just above your knees, and then slide into your heels. You strap your holster back into place, making sure the pouch is secure, before stepping in front of the floor-length mirror leaning against Steve’s wall to make sure it can’t be seen against the fabric of the dress.

You head for the bathroom next, pulling out the hairpins from your toiletry bag. You don’t go quite as “all-out” as you had yesterday, but you get your hair pinned up enough that it’s passable for this day’s fashion. You apply your makeup next, careful with the heavily pigmented lipstick. Once that’s finished, you’re ready to head out.

Stepping out of the apartment, you lock the door behind you and check to make sure no one is around to watch as you lift your skirt and tuck the key into your pouch for safekeeping. Your heels click down the metal staircase as you descend to the street level. You keep your eyes peeled, making sure the men from yesterday, or others, haven’t shown up in droves looking for you.

The coast seems to be clear and you’re able to make it to the street to hail a taxi without issue. You ride to the World Fair, thinking it might be best to start there, instead of showing up at the lab in civilian clothing, expecting to be let in. You pay the cab fare upon arrival and walk straight to the recruitment station. It’s still fairly early in the morning and most of the Fair attractions are still setting up, so there aren’t as many people around as yesterday.

You wonder briefly if it may even be too early before Dr. Erskine would have shown up, but decide to head in any way. A few doctors and nurses are walking around the facility, getting everything prepared. You walk up to a man sitting behind a desk, who you recognize as the head physician.

“Excuse me,” you call to gain his attention.

He barely even gives you a glance before turning back to the papers he’s working on. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?” he asks distractedly.

You have to bite your tongue to keep in the snide remark. “I’m looking for Dr. Erskine, I was here with him yesterday.”

You hear the sound of a curtain getting pushed open behind you. “Vic!”

Turning around, you find just the man you’re looking for. He gestures for you to meet him in the exam room before he shuts the curtain behind you. “Where have you been?” he asks in a hushed, yet urgent, whisper. “I was beginning to think they had taken you. Or worse!”

“I’m alright. I was able to distract them, but they ended up getting away. I wanted to lay low for the night to make sure they wouldn’t come looking for us.” You decide not to tell him about getting shot for fear that he’ll want to see the wound. He is a doctor, after all.

“This is not good,” he sighs with a shake of his head. “Schmidt is getting too close. We have to stop the project.”

You gape at the words coming out of his mouth and quickly try to rectify the situation. “No!” you insist, reaching out to grip his shoulders. “We can’t give up when we’re this close. I _know_ that we will find the man we need for Project Rebirth soon. If we stop now, then Schmidt _will_ win and we can’t let that happen.”

He gives you a doubtful look. “Is that your faith speaking?”

“Yes,” you tell him frankly.

“Okay,” he concedes. “We will keep going, but we have to be careful to make sure those men don’t find the location of the lab.”

You nod to agree, but then your throat constricts when you realize that they’ll find it anyway. You’d nearly forgotten that Erskine doesn’t get out of this alive. He dies just moments after Steve gets turned into a Super Soldier. Shot to death by a Hydra agent. Could you really let that happen still? Knowing that you can save his life?

But on the other hand, that Hydra Agent is a sure fire way to get that spare sample of the serum. You know that he takes it in his escape from the lab. You also know where he’s planning to go, so you can easily intercept him. If you decide to step in and stop the assassination, the chances of anyone letting you just walk out of that lab yourself with the extra serum were about zero.

You feel the conflict burning inside you and you’re not sure what to do. You attempt to push the thought from your mind, knowing you don’t actually have to make a decision right this moment. “They won’t,” you assure him half-heartedly, the lie tasting sour in your mouth. “For now, you should minimize being seen in public and we should have Colonel Phillips send a few extra MPs to watch over the recruitment center.”

He nods in agreement. “And what about you? Why aren’t you in uniform?” he asks, looking down at the dress you wear.

“I had a bit of a scuffle with those men yesterday. Nothing too serious!” you quickly put in when his brows raise. “But my uniform needed to be cleaned afterward. However, this does also give the advantage of being able to blend in. I can watch around the recruitment center to make sure we haven’t been followed and look for suspicious activity.”

Erskine thinks it over for a moment, “Well, you were the one to notice those men yesterday, so I trust your judgment.”

You spend a few hours with him creating a surveillance plan to monitor the recruitment center that will allow you to watch for any Hydra agents, but also not alarm any of the citizens coming to the Fair. After the extra MPs show up, you take your leave, knowing that they will be able to keep the doctor safe in your absence. From there, you head to a grocery store near Steve’s apartment to grab the items you’ll need for his surprise tonight.

-

When Steve walks up the stairs to his apartment later that evening, he’s got his hands tucked deep in his pants pockets and his head hanging low. He’s come home to an empty apartment nearly every day of his adult life, so he doesn’t understand why it feels so difficult now. He can smell something delicious cooking through one of his neighbor’s open windows and it makes his stomach growl. He gets to his front door and pauses. Though the curtains are shut on his window, he can see light filtering through from inside, and if he strains his ears, he’s pretty sure he can hear the radio playing a soft melody.

With brows furrowed, he slides his key in place and unlocks the door. Stepping into his home, the delicious smell from outside hits him hard and fills his lungs with warmth. He blinks in surprise. “…Vic?” he calls out in question, unsure if this is really happening or not.

“In the kitchen!” your voice calls back and he’s pretty sure his heart flutters in his chest. And not in a bad way.

He shuts the door behind himself and moves toward the kitchen. The sight before him is one he never thought he’d see. A woman waiting for him to come home and cooking in his kitchen. You’re standing at the stove, stirring a large pot. The scent of the food smells familiar to him, but he just can’t place it.

“What are you making?” he asks.

You send a smile his way in greeting, “Potato soup.”

He slips his coat off his shoulders, placing it on the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “That use to be my favorite as a kid.”

“Oh really?” you try to sound surprised.

“Yeah,” he reaches to loosen the tie from his neck. “I’ve tried to make it on my own a few times, but I can’t seem to find the right recipe. It doesn’t quite taste the same as when my Ma made it.”

You hum in understanding. “Well, I can’t claim to be as good of a cook as her, but hopefully this soup will measure up.” It’s at that moment that a timer begins ringing. “Oh, that would be the biscuits. Do you mind?” you ask, indicating to the oven mitt you’ve left on the counter.

He jumps in, slipping the mitt onto his hand and opens the oven with the other. He pulls out a tray of biscuits cooked to a perfect golden brown. He places the tray on the stovetop next to where you’re cooking the soup. He then closes the oven door and turns it off. “Do you need help with anything else?” he offers.

“Just bowls and utensils. The soup is almost done. You came home just in time,” you smile at him over your shoulder.

He kind of likes the way you say _home_. Maybe a little too much. He turns to pull two mismatched bowls out of the cupboard and some spoons from the drawers. He sets the bowls on the counter next to you and takes the spoons to the small two-seater table. He pulls out some cloth napkins and plates for the biscuits, seeing that you already have a plate of butter set out with a butter knife.

“Where did all this food come from?” Steve asks. He’s pretty sure he didn’t have all the ingredients you’d need to make potato soup, and he knows for certain that he’s been out of butter for at least a week.

“I went to the store,” you comment off-hand.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he tells you once again, feeling like a scratched record.

You only laugh. “I know, Steve. But I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” You grab a hand towel to hold one of the bowls as you ladle the hot soup carefully inside. “Take a seat,” you tell him, setting the bowl on the table in front of him.

He knows it’s rude to sit before the lady, but he finds himself complying with your wishes just the same. You pour soup into your own bowl and set it at the table before grabbing the small plates and placing a warm biscuit onto each. Watching you flit around his kitchen like you’ve been there his whole life makes Steve’s entire body ache in ways he’s not used to.

You set the plates down on either side of the table before taking your seat across from him. “Be careful, it’s still pretty hot,” you warn as you take your napkin and set it neatly on your lap. “How was your day out with Bucky?” you ask, figuring small talk will be a good way to pass some time as the soup cools.

“It was good,” he nods, picking up his spoon to stir at the soup in his bowl. “It was kinda nice just being the two of us. He’s been dragging me on all these double dates recently. It’s driving me a little crazy.”

You laugh sweetly. “You’d think your best friend would know your type by now.”

“My type?” he questions, confused.

“You know… the type of woman you’re attracted to.”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t even had a chance to figure that out.”

Your head tilts as you look at him. “You mean you’ve never been attracted to anyone?”

“Well, I _have_ …” he backtracks. “But that’s not the problem. The problem is that they never feel attracted to _me_. It doesn’t matter what I wear or how I act, next to Bucky I’m just…”

“Steve,” you say gently, reaching your hand across the table to place it over his.

“It’s not a big deal,” he feigns shrugging it off. “I’ve gotten used to being alone.”

You gently squeeze his hand, your heart bleeding for him. You can’t stand the sight of him looking so despondent. To feel resigned to what he thinks is his fate. “You’re not going to be alone forever. I promise that there is someone out there for you. It might take some time, but I know you’ll find happiness.” You might be saying too much, but you hate seeing the sadness in his eyes. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

He releases a dry laugh, eyes glued to where your hand touches his. “Are you one of those people that thinks there’s someone out there for everyone?”

Your thumb swipes back and forth over his skin. “No, but I know you’re a good person, Steve. And good people deserve to find happiness.” You wait for him to build the courage to meet your eyes once more. “I don’t measure a person’s worth based on what they look like or how many people they’ve been on dates with. Your actions, your heart, and your courage are what truly define you.”

“Did you read that on a Hallmark card?” he asks, shooting you a wry smile.

You laugh, pulling your hand back. “No. But it sounds like it should be on one, doesn’t it?”

“A little bit,” he agrees, his smile becoming a little more genuine.

You’re happy to have lifted his spirits and turn to dig into your meal. You cut open your biscuit and fit a slice of butter into its warm center to allow the butter to melt. You watch from the corner of your eye as Steve takes a spoonful of soup and blows gently to cool it off. You nearly hold your breath in anticipation when he raises the spoon to his mouth and gets his first taste.

“Oh my God!” he exclaims around his full mouth, quickly trying to swallow before he speaks further. “This tastes exactly how I remember it when my Ma made this!” He takes another spoonful, closing his eyes and releasing a happy moan with the burst of savory flavor on his tongue. “This is amazing.”

You can’t help but laugh at the child-like giddiness coming from him. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Where did you learn to make this?” he asks after downing another spoonful.

“I actually went through a whole process of trying several different recipes and ways of making it before coming to this particular one.” Your Steve had once mentioned that potato soup had been one of his favorite meals that his mother made for him growing up. When you asked him why he never made it himself, he’d told you that he had never received the recipe from her and didn’t know how to make it the same way. You’d then turned it into your mission to help him find the perfect recipe. It took trying out different variations every other week, until one day, he’d told you that you’d gotten perfectly. At that point, it became a special occasion meal that the two of you would share together.

You’re barely halfway through your own soup by the time he’s scraping at the bottom of his bowl. “Do you mind if I have more?” he asks eagerly.

You grin so wide that your cheeks almost hurt. “There’s plenty left over. Help yourself.” He gets up so quickly that his chair nearly falls over.

You’re pretty sure there’s a saying out there about how nothing quite brings people together like sharing a meal. That certainly seems to be the case with getting Steve to open up to you. As the two of you eat the soup and biscuits, the conversation seems to flow easier and more natural than before. He tells you all sorts of tales about the shenanigans he and Bucky got into growing up and you tell him a few stories from your own childhood.

The sun has long since set and the moon is high in the sky by the time your conversation lulls. At this point, you’re both up and moving about the kitchen. You’re putting away the left-over soup and biscuits while Steve cleans the dishes in the sink.

“Your wound seems to be doing a lot better already,” Steve observes. “I haven’t seen you wince at all tonight.”

You instinctively place a hand to the front of your torso, just over the simple square bandage that lies beneath. The pain was completely gone at this point; that you’d honestly forgotten about it. “I have pain medication that helps,” you quickly come up with an excuse.

“Do you want help checking it?” he offers.

You shake your head, “No, that’s okay. You helped with the worst of it already.”

Steve nods, drying off his hands and setting the towel on its rack by the sink. He exits the kitchen and heads down the hall for the bedroom. You hear him turn on the light with a click. You’re in the middle of cleaning crumbs off the table when you hear him call out to you. “Hey, is this your suitcase?”

Your entire body freezes and your heart jolts. “ _Shit_ ,” you mutter under your breath, realizing that you left it out from this morning. “Uh… yes,” you respond, straightening up and heading down the hall to stand in the doorway of his room. You try to come up with an excuse quickly, heart pounding in your chest. “Sorry, I know it’s kind of presumptuous. I’m only supposed to be in town until the end of the week. I’ve been staying at a hotel nearby. I was going to wait for you to get back, to make sure it was okay if I stayed here with you, but you had already offered and if I didn’t check out by the afternoon, then I would have had to pay for another night.” You’re rambling at this point. “If you don’t feel comfortable with that, then I can-”

“Oh, no!” Steve jumps in, cutting you off. “I’m not going to kick you out,” he assures you. “As I said, you can stay as long as you need.” His lips turn up into a hint of a smirk. “Besides, I’m starting to get used to your company.”

You release a breath of relief, your pounding heart starting to slow. You give him a shaky smile. “Thanks, Steve.”

“And at least you won’t have to fit yourself into Bucky’s pajamas for a second night in a row,” he jokes, stepping over to his closet as he loosens and removes his tie.

You scoff out a quiet laugh, moving back to finish cleaning the kitchen. You mentally scold yourself for being so lax. No more slip-ups. You can’t let Steve find out the truth about you. You can’t afford to compromise the mission.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter references the song Taking a Chance on Love by Benny Goodman, which was a popular song in 1943. I decided not to use the Endgame song 1) because that’s Steve and Peggy’s song and 2) it was technically made in 1945 and therefore would not have existed, yet.

The next morning you wake up once again to Steve attempting to untangle himself from your limbs. You giggle tiredly, releasing him and turn over to cuddle with your pillow before you promptly fall back asleep. A little later, you’re roused once more by the scent of cooking bacon and eggs.

You push yourself out of bed and lift your arms up in a stretch. Your wound was completely healed as of last night, only leaving behind a set of scars on the side of your abdomen and lower back. You reach for the silk robe you’d pulled out of your suitcase the night before and throw it on over your satin nightgown. You tie the robe closed as you leave Steve’s room and enter the kitchen.

The splattering sound of hot bacon grease fills your ears as you follow its delicious scent. “Good morning,” you announce to Steve, who’s standing by the stove, spatula in hand. He’s already dressed for the day and wears a simple blue apron to protect his clothes from the popping grease.

“Morning. I hope you’re hungry,” he smiles in greeting.

“It smells amazing,” you comment, taking in another deep breath. Stepping around him, you move to the refrigerator. “Do you want any orange juice?” you ask, pulling the carton out that you’d purchased yesterday.

“Sure, thanks,” Steve agrees.

You pull two glasses from the cupboard, pouring out the drinks, before setting the carton back in the fridge. You place both glasses down at the table. The oven timer goes off and Steve is quick to put on a mitt and pull some of the left-over biscuits out, where he was re-heating them. He dishes out the biscuits, bacon, and eggs onto two plates and joins you at the table.

You smile and give him your thanks as you wait for him to take a seat. You spread your napkin over your lap and lift your fork into your hand, ready to consume the freshly prepared meal.

“You have any plans for today?” Steve asks you right before he takes a bite of his bacon.

“I need to check in with work. Will probably need to be there for a few hours.”

“Where are you working?”

Your lips curl in amusement at his seemingly innocent question. “Now what kind of agent would I be if I answered that?”

His cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Oh, right.”

You giggle teasingly and shake your head. “I’m kidding, Steve. I work for the Strategic Scientific Reserve and am currently overseeing one of our recruitment stations.”

His brow furrows as he pauses eating. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that.”

“It’s a joint-government agency dedicated to finding a way to end this war. You’re not supposed to have heard of it.” You grin wryly.

“Oh, I see.” He turns back to his food, spearing some eggs onto his fork, and takes a bite. “What are you doing at a recruitment station?”

You shrug a shoulder. “Looking for soldiers with a specific skill set.”

“Ah,” he scoffs. “And I take it that I wouldn’t qualify?”

You sit back in your seat, eyes washing over him as you think how to best play your cards. “Don’t sell yourself short. It’s all about convincing the right person. Unfortunately, I’m not the person you need to convince.”

He nods like he understands and he drops the topic, but you can tell he continues to mull over your words.

After breakfast has been consumed and cleaned up, you move back to Steve’s room to get ready for your day. You change into a new dress, going with another civilian outfit, even though your uniform is now clean and ready. You then move into the bathroom, fixing up your hair, and putting on your makeup.

Steve observes the whirlwind of activity that goes into a woman’s morning routine. He’s never really seen it up close before. He was too young to have remembered or have the care to know how his mother did it. Movies never really portrayed this side of the process, just showing the end result instead. He can hear you humming a melody he doesn’t recognize from the bathroom. Several minutes pass before you re-emerge, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

“I better get going,” you murmur, walking toward him while looking at your watch. You come to a stop in front of him and lift your gaze to meet his. “Not sure how long I’ll be out for, but do you want to have dinner here again tonight?”

He nods his head quickly, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

The smile you give him makes his stomach flip. “Great. Then I’ll see you tonight.” You turn and head for the front door, pausing after pulling it open. “Oh, I grabbed my key, so if you’re going anywhere, you don’t need to worry about locking me out.”

“Okay.”

You send one more smile his way before wiggling your fingers in a small wave and taking your leave. The door shuts behind you with a soft click, but Steve continues to stand there staring at it for a moment. Every time you’re no longer in his presence he gets this strange feeling like he’s about to wake up from a dream.

-

You make your way back to the Expo, once again. You’ve got the Recruitment building in sight when you feel a presence behind you. Your muscles tense at the ready and as soon as you feel a hand land on your right shoulder, you react instantly. You reach up with your left hand, gripping the wrist of the hand on your shoulder tightly, you yank it forward. At the same time, you raise your right arm, bent at the elbow, and follow the length of the assailant’s arm up until your elbow meets their neck.

“Woah! Woah!” the man’s voice registers as soon as you’ve turned to meet his gaze.

“Mr. Stark!” You release him instantly. “Don’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on a woman?” you ask, placing a hand to your racing heart.

“Don’t think most of them have reactions quite like that,” he comments, rubbing at the base of his neck.

“Most of them don’t have the training that I have,” you shift from foot to foot, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He grins suggestively.

You want to roll your eyes. “What can I do for you, Mr. Stark?” you ask, trying to keep it professional.

He smirks knowingly, but steps back into line. “I just wanted to see how the recruitment has been going for you and the Doc.”

You release a long breath. “We’ve approved a small number of recruits for this next round of training, but we’re not completely confident that any of them are the one just yet.”

“I thought the whole point of sending them off to Camp Lehigh was to determine _there_ whether or not they’re worthy.”

“How a person presents themselves as a civilian can provide just as much information as seeing them interact on a military base. We need to know all sides of their personality. It wouldn’t do us any good to give the serum to a man that will just go off and blindly kill anyone. If a man doesn’t respect innocent lives before being given any powers, then he sure as hell won’t respect them afterward. We need to know how they act as a person _before_ we see them as a soldier.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” the two of you look to see Dr. Erskine stepping out of the recruitment center.

“Good morning, Doctor,” you greet him with a smile.

“Are you harassing my assistant, again, Mr. Stark?” Erskine questions with an amused smile as he meets with the two of you.

Howard grins, unashamed. “Well, I certainly know better now. She nearly took my arm off.”

“You would have deserved it,” you defend yourself.

“I don’t doubt that,” Erskine chuckles.

Howard raises his hands up as if to proclaim his innocence. “I just wanted to see how everything was going for you and wanted to offer my services if I can be of any use.”

“Just make sure your show is ready for this weekend,” you tell him. “We’re hoping that the crowd it draws will bring some new faces to the recruitment center.”

“Oh, it’s ready, alright,” he responds confidently. “My show is going to blow the rest of this whole fair out of the water.”

You can’t help the smirk when you recall exactly what happens to his invention during the show from Steve’s stories. “I’m sure it will.”

“If that is all, Mr. Stark, we really must be getting back to work,” Erskine steps in.

“Of course,” Howard concedes, letting you both walk past to enter into the recruitment center.

“He’s certainly persistent,” you comment once you’re inside.

“I think that may be because you keep rejecting him. Howard Stark is not used to women that don’t fall at his feet.”

You shake your head and sigh. “I’ve already got more than enough going on with the man I left at home. I really don’t need to start a collection.”

Erskine laughs quietly. “I am still very much interested in meeting this man of yours.”

You send him a conspiratorial smile before walking off to begin your rounds and check in with the MPs that are on staff today. You make sure they’re all on the same page for watching the building’s perimeter and keeping the peace indoors before you send them on their way. The recruitment center is a little busier, considering it’s only Wednesday, but you figure it will only pick up even more, the closer you get to the weekend. Erskine has already told you that you should be prepared to work long hours over the weekend.

You help him interview a few of the morning recruitments before you grab a clipboard and tell him you’re going to scout around the crowds at the fair and see about sending more men over. You do what you can to keep up appearances and pretend like you’re enjoying what you’re doing. But in reality, both your head and heart are still at the apartment.

You can’t help but wonder what Steve is getting up to. Even though he’s not the same Steve as the one you fell in love with, you still find yourself enjoying being around him just as much. To be with him in this time, before he becomes burdened by the trauma of war and the responsibilities of becoming Captain America. Knowing the rough road that he faces, you just want to be able to give him a little bit of light to help brighten his path. Give him hope at a time where he may be beginning to lose it.

Once you’ve finished up with the Recruitment Center for the day, you eagerly head back home. You’re halfway up the metal stairs when the scent of something burning makes you pause. In the next second, you’re dashing up the rest of the steps and burst into the apartment. The burning scent only gets stronger and makes you cringe.

“Steve?” you call out

There’s a slight haze of smoke within the apartment and you can hear coughing. You rush into the kitchen, relieved to see the absence of open flames, but the smoke is definitely heavier in here. Something in a bread pan sits black on the stovetop. The oven door has been left wide open and you find Steve struggling to open the window above the kitchen sink. You quickly take over, popping the latch and yanking it open.

Steve continues coughing next to you and can’t seem to catch his breath. You grab his hand and hurry to get him down the hall and into his room, shutting the door behind you both. “What… are you doing?” he asks between wheezing breaths.

You guide him to sit on the edge of his bed. Then walk around to pull open the bedroom window, too. “The smoke is triggering an asthma attack,” you tell him moving back to kneel in front of him. “Sit up straight,” you encourage, trying to get him to stop hunching over. You reach to undo his tie and pop open the first few buttons of his shirt. “Steve, honey, you’ve gotta slow your breathing,” you tell him, worry dripping from your voice. He inhales and releases a series of coughs without truly exhaling.

You reach up, cupping his face in your hands. “Place your hands on your stomach and try to follow me.” You exaggerate your breaths, trying to make your exhale long and slow. You can tell that he’s trying, but his body just isn’t cooperating. With every cough comes a rapid inhale, and he just can’t make it stop. “Okay, okay,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks. “I have an emergency inhaler in my med kit, but I need to go get it.” You move to stand. “I’ll be right back,” you assure him.

You step out of the bedroom, making sure to close the door immediately. You first step back into the living to open the front window, hoping for a cross breeze to form with the kitchen window that will help air out the place. You then rush into the bathroom to grab your first aid kit and take it back to Steve’s room.

You kneel at his feet once more, opening the kit and search for the inhaler. You’d been carrying one ever since the battle of New York. The debris from the battle had cluttered the air in the city with ash and dust and you’d come across several civilians in need of assistance that couldn’t escape the battle area because of triggered asthma attacks. Since destruction had a way of following the Avengers around, your spare inhaler had come in handy on more than a few occasions.

“Oh, yes!” you mutter in success, pulling out the inhaler and handing it to Steve.

“What… is this?” he questions, confusion.

“Bite down on this end and close your lips around it, then press once on the top canister and breathe the air in through your mouth.” He does as you instruct, inhaling the medicine. “See if just that one helps,” you tell him, placing your hands reassuringly on his knees.

He continues to cough, not used to the feeling of the inhaler, but the coughs don’t sound quite as bad as before. His breath still continues to hitch, so you have him use the inhaler once more. After that, he’s finally able to release a full exhale. “There we go,” you encourage gently. “Nice and slow.”

He continues to huff, but no longer coughs. After another minute or so his breaths start to even out. “I think I’m okay,” he tells you. His chest still aches, but he no longer feels like every breath is going to be his last.

You release the stress in your shoulders with a long breath. “You scared me half to death.” Your hands rub absentmindedly over the tops of his thighs.

“Sorry,” he mutters, embarrassed, and not meeting your eyes. “I was trying to make meatloaf for our diner, but while it was in the oven, I started sketching and I lost track of time.”

You send him one of your gentle smiles. “You don’t need to be sorry, Steve. I’m just glad you’re okay.” You give his knees a light squeeze before standing once more. “I’ll go deal with the meatloaf and get the remaining smoke out of the kitchen. Stay here and I’ll bring something to you. Are you okay if I just re-heat the soup from yesterday?”

He nods.

“Sit tight.” You press your lips to his forehead before turning to exit the room.

You can still smell the burning scent of the meatloaf, but the smoke haze has lessened inside the apartment. You close the open oven door and carefully test how hot the loaf tin is, finding it warm to the touch, but not burning hot. You grab a butter knife and attempt to extract the ashen meatloaf to dump into the trash can, and hopefully salvage the tin. It takes a bit of work because the meatloaf is basically a solid black brick, but eventually, you work it loose. You dump the tin into the sink and fill it with water to soak. You then transfer a portion of soup into a pot and start heating it up on the stove.

While that’s heating, you grab a cookie sheet and start waving it up and down to fan the last of the burning scent out the window. When you no longer smell burnt meatloaf, you put the cookie sheet away and stir the soup to make sure you won’t have a second burning fiasco on your hand. You close up the window, so the apartment won’t get too cold and move into the living room to close the window there, too.

After the soup is heated, you pour out two bowls and take them down the hallway to Steve’s room. You step in to find him exactly where you left him, on the edge of the bed. He’s leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging low. “You still feeling okay?” you question softly.

He inhales sharply and lifts his head. “Yeah,” he responds simply, but you can see the self-deprecation in his eyes.

“Well then, come on,” you encourage with a swift jerk of your head back toward the hall. You want to get him out of the dark bedroom in the hopes that coming out into the light might lift his spirits some.

He pushes himself up with a sigh and follows you out of the room, only to pause in confusion when you turn into the living room instead of continuing straight to the kitchen. “What are you doing?” he asks, confusion turning into curiosity.

“Having diner on the couch,” you state like it’s obvious. You place one bowl on the end table next to an old lamp. “Take a seat,” you gesture Steve over. You hand the second bowl to him once he reaches you and then you make your way around him to the small bookshelf against the opposite wall.

He has an old radio sitting on top of the bookshelf. You twist the first knob to turn it on and adjust the volume. You carefully spin the second knob until you find a music station with minimal static. Once you’re satisfied, you turn to join Steve on the couch. You kick off your heels and sit with your legs folded under you as you grab your soup.

You lift the bowl closer to your face, so as not to spill anything when you lift your spoon up and blow gently at the hot soup. You pause before eating when you notice that Steve is just sitting there, staring at you. “What?” you question.

He continues to stare, looking a little flabbergasted as he shakes his head slowly. “You’ve got to be the strangest woman I’ve ever met,” he states frankly.

You feel the twitch in your cheek right before a full-on grin develops on your face. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you laugh.

Steve’s cheeks flush a deep red. “Sorry, that came out rude.”

“No offense taken.” You shoot him a wink.

“But you’re not mad that I ruined our dinner?” he questions.

Your head tilts in confusion, “Why would I be mad?”

He drops his gaze. “Because I got distracted and let it burn. And then my asthma started up…”

“Steve, you can’t control your asthma,” you tell him.

“I know, I just… people tend to get mad at the things that inconvenience them.”

Your eyes widen, unsure if you really just heard him say that. “Steven Grant Rogers! You get that thought out of your head right now!” you chastise. “You are _not_ an inconvenience. You are a person. A human being. A man who is kind and caring and sensitive… and you’re also stronger than you realize. You’re determined, and passionate, and yes, _sometimes_ , you can be a bit of a stubborn jerk, but you are _never_ an inconvenience. And if anyone ever tries to make you feel otherwise, well then you can send them my way and I will happily set them straight.”

He stares at you, open-mouthed, unsure what to say to that.

“Now stop staring at me and eat your soup,” you huff, turning back to your own bowl. “Your body needs to build back its strength.”

He’s quiet for a short moment, absorbing your words. “You’re sure I haven’t been an inconvenience?”

“Steve!” you’re about to go on another tirade but cut yourself off when you see the knowing smirk on his face.

“This is me being a stubborn jerk.”

You scoff out a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re a real pain in the ass, Rogers.”

He chuckles along with you. “I’m sure Bucky would agree with you.”

“ _Eat!_ ” you insist between your laughter.

“ _I am!_ ” he responds through a mouthful of potato soup.

The two of you eat in a joyful, relaxed silence, letting the music from the radio fill the space. Once you’re finished, you just set your bowl on the side table and sit back against the couch continuing to listen to the gentle, jazzy melodies. You and your Steve could spend hours sitting and listening to music together. It was one of your favorite ways to wind down after long missions. Sometimes you’d sit on the couch and read while Steve sat next to you, sketching. Other times, the two of you would just lay in bed, wrapped around each other for some solid cuddle time.

Steve only ever had one rule whenever the two of you listened to music together.

The current song on the radio ends and you immediately perk up when a familiar melody starts. It’s _[Taking a Chance on Love](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Ftrack%2F6mMQerlBupqeHYm1SCrdYP%3Fsi%3DhFYjZD5NR8m58l7dirbjHg&t=Mjc1NTgwMGYyYmUzOTk4ZTliYzZjNjY2ZjkxZmQ0MmUxYzY1ZDRhZSx2dzdieDRJVg%3D%3D&b=t%3ARL06YKvjo80CVNdB87eg-w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fafter-avenging-hours.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F622439837935484928%2Fout-of-time-4-steve-x-reader&m=1)_ by Benny Goodman and Helen Forrest. The song begins with a series of trumpet bleats harmonizing with a clarinet. The uplifting beat has you rising onto your feet. “Come on!” you grin excitedly down at Steve and hold your hand out to him.

“What is it?” he asks in confusion, but still sets down his empty bowl and takes your hand.

You help him up and off the couch before pulling him into the middle of the living room. “The only rule is that we _have_ to dance to this song.”

“Wha-” Steve’s steps falter behind you. “Vic, I-I don’t dance.”

You give him a sweet laugh, turning to face him. You hold each of his hands in yours and start to sway your hips to the rhythm of the song. “I’m not looking to win any awards, Rogers. Just have fun with me!”

As the melody evens out, you transition to swaying from side to side. Stepping closer to him, you set his right hand against your hip and rest your own on his shoulder. As you continue to sway, he’s forced to join you because of your proximity. You smile encouragingly until he begins to relax.

_Here I go again, I hear those trumpets blow again._

_All aglow again, taking a chance on love._

He slowly eases into it. Whether it’s because he’s just giving into you or because he’s actually enjoying himself, you’re not quite sure.

_Here I slide again, about to take that ride again._

_Starry-eyed again, taking a chance on love._

You find yourself singing along to the lyrics. You’ve heard the song hundreds of times throughout your relationship with Steve. You know just about every note by heart. Every time it plays, it never fails to make you fall in love with him just a little more. You’re pretty sure you first realized that you were in love with him while the two of you danced to this song.

_I thought that cards were a frame-up, I never would try._

_Now I’m taking that game up and the ace of hearts is high._

The first time you ever heard it, the two of you had been newly dating, lounging in the common area of the compound. You were just enjoying each other’s company while Steve had a playlist going on the surround sound speakers. When this song popped up, Steve had given you the biggest puppy eyes you’d ever seen on him and he asked if you wanted to dance. You’d giggled like a giddy school girl and agreed. He’d pulled your body tight against his, swaying gently and softly sang the lyrics directly into your ear.

_Things are mending now, I see a rainbow blending now._

_We’ll have a happy ending now, taking a chance on love._

From that point on, no matter what the two of you were doing, if this song came on, you both would drop everything and share a dance. You’ve left half-finished mission reports, vegetables only partially chopped, water boiling on the stove… all so the two of you could dance like two idiots in love. There was even one time when a music listening-cuddle session had transitioned from heavily making out into foreplay, but when this song came on from Steve’s docking station, he’d given you a wicked grin and pulled you out of bed, not even caring that you were both naked as the day you were born. You’d protested something fierce, having been so close to release via his ridiculously thick tongue, but he’d stubbornly refused your pleas and ignored the ache in his loins where it rubbed against your hip. Instead, he made you dance through the whole song before letting you both continue where you’d left off.

You’re pulled out of your memories when the Steve you’re currently with grows a little bolder with his dance moves and guides you into a spin. You laugh freely, following his lead. You push out until your arms are fully extended and then let him twirl you back in, coming to a stop with your back to his chest. The two of you sway like that for a moment before you twirl out again and he pulls you back, now facing each other. Your hand settles on his shoulder once again, while his lands at the center of your back, bringing you in closer than before.

He’s grinning so wide, you can’t help but match his expression. The stress and shame that had been weighing on him earlier have vanished without a trace. He looks free and happy. Content to hold you in his arms and dance the night away in his tiny apartment. As the song comes to an end, the two of you slow your swaying. Even after just the one song, his breathing is a little heavier than it should be. Likely because of his recent asthma attack.

“There, was that so bad?” you ask gently.

He looks back at you, his features softening serenely. “Could have been worse. At least I didn’t step on you.”

You release a small giggle, leaning in to place a chaste kiss to his cheek. You then pull out of his hold and turn to take your empty bowls into the kitchen. You know if you were to stay in his arms for a moment longer you were going to lose all control and would probably end up throwing yourself at him.

Steve watches you leave the room, a sense of longing building deep in his gut. He’s never felt this way about anyone before. And he’s not entirely sure what to do about it.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days seem to pass in a frenzy and before you know it, it’s already Saturday. Steve had asked you in the morning if you wanted to catch a movie with him later and it nearly killed you to have to refuse him. It was hard to miss the look of longing that had developed in his gaze whenever he looked at you ever since the two of you shared that dance. You felt that very same longing down to your very soul.

You would give just about anything to be able to stay here, living in a bubble of bliss. To protect him from all the horrors you know he will face if he fulfills his destiny. But you know you can’t do that. In fact, you have to do quite the opposite. You have to do everything in your power to make sure that it all still happens.

So, you’d started dropping little hints here and there. Trying to encourage him to try for recruitment again. Talking about the war effort and how bad they needed more soldiers. Groaning about how none of the people showing up at the recruitment center are a good fit for the program you work for. You make sure to get it into his head that fighting in the war isn’t about killing the most people in order to win, it’s about stopping bad people from doing even worse things.

By the time you’re walking into the Recruitment Center Saturday morning, all that’s left to do is hang onto that faith like you’re always telling Dr. Erskine. You have to believe that things are going to go right, otherwise, you’re not sure what you’re going to do.

The center is a madhouse all day long, which certainly helps to keep you distracted. The Fair has brought droves of people into the area. Dr. Erskine gives you a pat on the shoulder in passing between interviews and comments that this had been a pretty good idea. You certainly were seeing new faces today. Some good, most… not quite. There were several groups of men coming in with their friends, rowdy from the alcohol provided at the Fair, and boasting about how they were going to be the guy to _win the war_. Those ones tended to be a little handsy. You may have _accidentally_ broken a few fingers.

When Erskine caught onto what was happening, he’d sent you out to run a perimeter check to give you some space. At that point, night had already fallen. The Fair looked even more magnificent under the cover of night. The buildings were lit up like Christmas trees and they had fireworks going off in the distance.

“Excuse me, Miss?” you hear a familiar voice and turn to see one Sgt. James Barnes dressed to the nines in his military uniform. “I’m looking for my friend, Steve. He was just with us at the Stark show but then disappeared. He’s blonde, kinda thin, always walks around with his head down. Have you seen him by any chance?”

You have to calm the pounding of your heart before you can respond. “Um, yes… I think I saw him heading toward the Recruitment Center,” you tell Bucky. Even though you hadn’t actually seen him, you know that’s where he must be.

Bucky frowns, sighing in irritation. “That little punk,” he mutters under his breath. You’re pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear that and have to refrain from smirking. “Uh, thank you,” he nods, backing away and heads in the direction of the center, the two women with him following behind.

It takes everything in you not to go rushing over there yourself to make sure things are going according to plan. You have to make sure your presence can’t interfere with Dr. Erskine seeing Steve for the first time. You complete a full lap around the Fair, hoping that will have killed enough time before you start to make your way back.

You watch a figure heading your way and come to a stop.

“This is me _not_ sneaking up on you,” Howard proclaims, hands raised in innocence.

“Mr. Stark,” you greet, smiling in amusement. “How was your show? Did you blow them out of the water?” you ask, using his turn of phrase against him.

“Well, something certainly blew,” he laughs good-naturedly. “I take it, you saw what happened?”

You shake your head, “No, but I’ve certainly heard all about it.”

“News travels fast.”

“I happen to be in a unique position where knowing exactly what happens, and when, can mean a matter of life or death,” you tell him frankly.

“Well, then I guess I better let you get back to work. Maybe we can get drinks sometime when death is no longer on the table,” he grins.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Stark,” you dismiss, beginning to step around him to continue on your way.

“Vic?” You look up to catch Steve coming out of the Recruitment Center. His gaze flickers over your shoulder to watch the man you’d just been speaking with walk away. “You know Howard Stark?”

You walk up to him, shrugging your shoulders casually. “He’s more of an acquaintance,” you explain. _More like an annoyance_.

“I just…” his brow furrows and he frowns. “I don’t understand what you’d be doing, hanging around a guy like me when you know a man like _that_.”

“Steve,” you step up to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. It doesn’t escape your notice how he’d referred to himself as just a _guy,_ but Howard as a _man_. “I love that you don’t have an ego the size of Texas, like most men in this world, but you really need to start giving yourself more credit.”

He smiles wryly. “I’ll try and work on that. This certainly helps,” he lifts up a brown folder that he carries and hands it to you.

You open it to find his enlistment papers. It’s stamped with 1A on the bottom and has Dr. Erskine’s signature for approval. The relief you feel is so immense you could just about collapse right now. “Steve, that’s amazing!” you tell him, sharing his excitement.

“I ship out to Camp Lehigh tomorrow morning.”

You close the folder and hand it back to him, “Well, then. I guess I’ll see you there,” you grin.

“You will?” he questions in surprise.

“I told you that I was only in New York for the week. Wherever Dr. Erskine goes, I go.”

Steve feels a strange sense of relief knowing that he’ll still get to be around you, and this isn’t goodbye, just yet. “Do you really think I’ve got a shot at this? You said you were looking for soldiers with a specific skillset. Why would Dr. Erskine choose me?”

“Because of this,” you tap a finger against his temple. “And because of this,” you drop your hand to tap at his chest. “Anyone can pick up a gun and follow orders. You have to be more than that. This isn’t about strength or bravery. This is about knowing the value of a life before you decide to take it. I’m not saying that this next week is going to be easy for you. In fact, it’s probably going to be very difficult. But you have to show them that you’re more than the sum of your parts. I know you can do this, Steve. You’re destined for greatness.”

You catch the way his eyes dip to your lips but barely have enough time for that to register before he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. Not expecting him to do that, you stiffen up from the shock. Steve reacts almost immediately, pulling back with a panicked look on his face. “I’m so sorry. I thought-”

You grab his face in both of your hands and smash your lips back onto his. You kiss him long and slow, just the way you know he likes it. You can feel his inexperience in the way he’s slow to respond. He nearly drops the folder in his hands, remembering at the last second to grip it tighter with one hand as the other falls to your hip. Your tongue darts out to lick tentatively at his plump lower lip. He tastes salty, like popcorn from the fair. You feel his entire body shiver when your tongue swipes against his lips again.

His heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of his chest and he’s getting dizzy from lack of oxygen, but he doesn’t want this to stop. You make the decision for him, when you pull back, your nose brushing tenderly against his. He has to blink several times as the haze clears from his mind before he meets your hooded gaze. “Wow…” he breathes. “I- that was… wow.”

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable he is. “Right back at ‘cha,” you wink.

His lips split into a dopey grin. He knows that he must look like an idiot, but he’s past the point of caring. “How much longer do you have to stay?” he asks.

You look down at your watch. “Maybe another hour or so.”

“I can wait if you want to go home together?” he asks, hope shining in his eyes.

Your gaze softens, “I’d like that. Why don’t you finish checking out the Fair and then meet me back here?”

“Okay,” he agrees, eyes flickering down to your lips once more.

Unable to help yourself, you lean in for another kiss. He kisses back a little more fervently. When you pull back, you have to physically distance yourself by stepping away from him, otherwise, you’d never let him leave. “See you in an hour,” you smile.

“Yeah,” he nods once, walking backward a few steps before turning to head back to the Fair exhibits. For the first time, he walks with his shoulders back and his head held high. There’s almost even a bounce to his steps. He glances once over his shoulder and grins when he sees that you’re still watching him.

“So, that is the one, huh?”

You start at the sound of Dr. Erskine’s voice, not having heard him walking up to you. “Hmmm?” you question, unsure if he’s asking whether you think Steve is the one for Project Rebirth, or what exactly.

He grins and gives you a knowing look. “The man capable of holding your interest. You have good taste.”

You laugh nervously, your blood heating in embarrassment. “Didn’t I say you might meet him one day?”

He chuckles. “Yes, well. It would have saved me quite a few gray hairs if you had brought him over a lot sooner.”

You grin widely at that. “Sorry, Doctor,” you apologize with a light laugh. “But it needed to be his own decision to come. He wouldn’t have accepted if he thought the offer had been handed to him because of me.”

“I can understand that,” he nods along to your words. “Well, why don’t you take the rest of the evening off and go enjoy the fair with your man?”

You look up at him in surprise. “Really?”

He smiles fondly down at you. “You won’t have much time to spend with him once we’re at the base. And I can now rest easy, knowing there is a candidate that I can truly put my faith in.”

“I thought scientists didn’t believe in faith.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “This one may have changed his mind.”

You smile victoriously.

“Just make sure he’s not late for the bus tomorrow morning. You and I can head for Camp Lehigh afterward.”

“Of course,” you nod.

“Enjoy your evening, Vic,” he dismisses you, beginning to turn back toward the Recruitment center.

“Thank you, Doctor,” you call after him.

He waves you off before you turn and excitedly hurry toward the direction Steve disappeared to. It takes a minute to find him in the large crowd. It’s definitely not as easy to spot him without those broad shoulders. Eventually, you catch sight of his blonde head of hair and make your way over. You approach him from behind and loop your arm through his.

His head swings over to you, surprise lining his features until his eyes meet yours. “Hey!” he greets you with a toothy grin.

“Erskine gave me the rest of the night off,” you grin back.

“Oh, well do you want to head home now, then?”

You shake your head, still smiling. “No. I want to see the Fair and share a bag of popcorn with my best guy.”

Steve starts to look around. “Well, is he meeting us here, or…” he pretends not to know who you’re talking about.

“Steve!” you laugh and slap his shoulder.

He laughs too. His eyes flicker all over your face and you can almost feel their caress. “I’ve never been anyone’s best guy before.”

“Would a kiss help to convince you?”

“It might.”

You happily lean in until your lips are pressed to his. You keep this one sweet, but short, not wanting to cause a scene that might embarrass you both. “How about now?” you ask, tilting your head to rest your forehead against his.

“I think I’m getting there.” His words tickle your cheeks.

You laugh, pulling back. With your arm still linked through his, you tug Steve toward the closest popcorn stand. He holds the bag while you happily munch on the salty snack and look around at the exhibits. You find it absolutely hilarious how dated all of these _latest and greatest_ inventions all are. It’s almost difficult to keep it to yourself.

You’re highly amused and thoroughly enjoying yourself, but your internal commentary is far more entertaining than the actual exhibits. Mostly, you’re just enjoying what little time you have left with Steve. As the crowds begin to thin out and the night air starts to grow colder, you and Steve decide that it’s time to head back home.

The two of you walk through the door hand in hand. You feel lighter than air and you’re just so happy that you can now kiss him whenever you want. And you did. Multiple times on the journey home. The blissed-out expression hasn’t left his face all night and it just makes you want to kiss him even more. The way your heart pounds in your chest makes this feel like new love, even though you’ve been in love with him for years.

You’re barely able to let go of each other long enough to get ready for bed. And even once you are both tucked away for the night, you’re more wrapped up in each other than in the blankets. You pull out of, yet another, lengthy lip-lock. He’s getting better with each one, picking up on your cues and responding in kind. It makes you feel like a teenager all over again. Making out with your boyfriend in the dark. Getting drunk and giggly off of his kisses. Steve is breathless by the end of every one, but like a champ, he keeps coming back for more.

“We should sleep,” you whisper, trying to be the voice of reason. “You need to be at the bus station bright and early and you still need to pack.”

“Just one more,” he insists, leaning forward and stealing your lips back. You can’t protest and he damn well knows it. With your hand at the back of his neck, your nails scratch at the shorter hairs right at his nape. His own hand presses against the middle of your back, pushing your body even closer to his. You can feel his arousal against your lower abdomen, but he doesn’t act on it. If you thought he was ready for it, you’d try to get him to, but for now, you’re content with just kissing him.

You pull back once again. While he catches his breath, you duck your head down, tucking it beneath his chin and bury your face into his chest. “Okay, now we’re _really_ going to sleep,” you urge, safely tucked out of reach.

“Fine,” he sighs stubbornly, tilting his head to rest his cheek against your hair.

You laugh and your breath causes his skin to tingle. “Good night, Steve.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he responds. “Sweet dreams, Vic.”

A content hum leaves your throat as your muscles begin to relax. “Who needs sweet dreams when this is so much better?”

For the first time in a long time, Steve falls asleep with a smile on his face.

-

The two of you pack up together when morning comes. You’ve slipped back into your military uniform and have taken the dark green dress coat out of your suitcase to help cover the mended bullet holes in your shirt and to make room for you to pack away your toiletry bag and first aid kit.

You look around Steve’s bedroom to make sure you’ve got everything. The glint of metal catches your eye from the top of the dresser inside the closet. Stepping closer, you find that it’s the pistol you took from those Hydra agents at the beginning of the week. God, that feels like a lifetime ago. Glancing around to make sure you’re still alone, you grab the gun and take it to your suitcase. It may come in handy later. You pull out the magazine and check the chamber before tucking the gun away and closing up the suitcase.

Lifting it by the handle, you walk out of Steve’s room. You pause as you enter the living room, smiling at the sight before you. Steve is sitting cross-legged on the floor next to his bookshelf. His suitcase is only half-filled with clothing and he’s packing books into the other half.

“You’re probably going to be the only person showing up with books in their suitcase,” you laugh lightly.

He looks up from the two books he has in either hand and grins. “You’re the one that said I should stand out.” He puts one book into the case and places the other back on the shelf.

“Valid point.” You move to set your suitcase down by the front door. “You almost ready?”

“Almost.” He reaches up to grab a picture frame that sits on top of the bookshelf, next to the radio.

“Is that your parents?” you ask, looking at the black and white photo over his shoulder. It shows a pretty blonde woman and a man dressed in a World War I uniform.

“Yeah. They took this the day he shipped out. Ma was already pregnant with me, but didn’t know it, yet.” Turning the frame around, he unlatches the back door and pulls the photo out. He tucks it for safekeeping under the hardcover of one of his books before placing the empty frame back on the shelf.

He pulls the trunk closed and flips the latches to lock it shut. He then pushes up onto his feet with a small grunt. “Well, I guess I’m as ready as I can get. I still kind of feel like I’m not completely sure what I’m getting myself into.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “Just think of this as your next adventure.”

You each carry your own suitcases out of the apartment and Steve turns around to lock the front door. You take one last look at the place. If everything goes according to plan, you’ll never end up back here. It’s a bittersweet feeling. You may have only stayed here for a week, but it was long enough to make this place feel like a home to you. You’re going to cherish the memories that were created here.

“Shall we?” Steve asks after making sure that the door is securely locked.

“We shall,” you nod, taking his hand in yours and carrying your suitcase with the other. The two of you walk down the steps and out onto the street, hailing a taxi next. The driver pulls over and steps out to help you place your bags into the trunk of the car. Steve holds the door open for you to take a seat in the back before sliding in after you.

He gives the driver instructions to take you both to the bus depot where he’s been told to report. As the taxi takes off, you notice the way Steve’s leg bounces up and down. You’re not sure if it’s from nerves or because he’s excited. It may be a little of both. Reaching over, you take his hand back into yours, threading your fingers between his.

He turns away from the window to meet your gaze, smiling softly when he sees you looking tenderly back at him. He lifts your entwined hands up and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

The taxi soon pulls up to the front of the bus depot. At the back of the turn-about area, you can see that the bus destined for Camp Lehigh is already waiting, a line of men stand out front getting their bags loaded into the side of the bus before boarding. You step out of the taxi from your side and help Steve pull his case from the back. He sets it down on the edge of the sidewalk before turning back to you.

“I’ll see you there, Soldier,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Don’t go easy on me, okay?” he requests.

You smirk openly, “It’s not me you need to worry about.” A picture of Colonel Phillips comes to mind.

He scoffs out a laugh. “Well, don’t _tell_ anyone to go easy on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you grin, amused by his request. He never likes having things handed to him. “Good luck.”

He grins wide, lifting his suitcase and taking a step back. “I don’t need luck. I’ve got Lady Victory on my side.”

Your heart stops as you’re overwhelmed with a sense of déjà vu. You’ve heard him say that before. Multiple times. It was basically his default response whenever anyone told him ‘good luck’ during missions. He’d say it with that same cheeky grin and that twinkle in his eyes.

It had to be a coincidence. Right?

Steve is already out of earshot by the time your mind restarts and your default response comes tumbling out. “Love you too, Cap.”

Your heart clenches as your mind begins to race. Is there a deeper meaning here? Something that you’re missing, maybe?

“Where to, Miss?” the taxi driver pulls you out of your thoughts, eager to keep things moving.

“Right…” you pull your focus and get back into the vehicle. You give him the address to Dr. Erskine’s apartment in Queens. The doctor told you to meet him there before an SSR designated driver would show up to take you both to Camp Lehigh.

You watch Steve’s figure through the car window until the taxi pulls out, your mind still racing. It had to just be a coincidence, you surmise and try to push the thought from your mind.

-

You spend the drive down with Dr. Erskine going over the testing rubric for the recruits. It’s heavily weighted toward the strength side of the spectrum and it makes you wonder just how exactly Steve manages to pull this off. Your Steve never really mentioned much about what actually happened at Camp Lehigh. All he said was that it had been a grueling and intense week of testing and training that his body definitely hadn’t been prepared for. And yet, it also ended up being the best thing that ever happened to him.

As the car pulls onto the base, it drives past all the soldiers marching in formation and standing at attention out on the main field. The driver eventually comes to a stop right outside the officer quarters. You step out of the car on your side and walk around the back to re-join Dr. Erskine. The two of you look over toward the front door of the building where Colonel Phillips is now stepping out.

“Doctor, welcome back.” He greets stepping up to you both and shaking Erskine’s hand. “Who’s this?” he questions, giving you a brief side glance.

“Agent V, sir,” you introduce yourself with a salute.

“She’s my personal assistant,” Erskine explains.

“Since when do you have a personal assistant?”

Erskine gives him a hard look. “Since you gave me only a week to find a candidate.”

Colonel Phillips releases a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them come in. I’m pretty sure I know which one you picked.” He places his hands on his hips and stares you down. “Agent “V”, huh. That short for something?”

You stare back, unflinching. “Victory, sir.”

“Oh boy,” he rolls his eyes. “That sounds like some sorta BS that New York Senator would cook up.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep in the snark.

“Lieutenant, please escort Agent V to her quarters. She’ll be bunking with Agent Carter,” Colonel Phillips orders a passing soldier before turning back to Erskine. “You and I are going to talk about these candidates.”

You turn to find that your driver has already pulled your suitcase from the back of the car for you. You give him your thanks as you take it and then follow the Lieutenant inside. The soldier leads you to a door at the very end of the hall, to the left. You knock once on the door.

“Come in,” you hear from inside.

Turning the knob, you push open the door and step inside. The room looks similar to a college dorm. Two matching twin-sized beds, two matching desks, two sets of drawers. There’s a door immediately to the right, which you assume is the bathroom.

Peggy sits at the desk closest to the door, various papers spread across its surface. “Can I help you?” she asks, pushing her chair out to stand.

“I’m Agent V,” you introduce yourself. “I’m here as Dr. Erskine’s assistant. Colonel Phillips instructed me to stay here.”

“A pleasure to meet you, I’m Agent Carter.” She reaches her hand out to greet you.

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an absolute idiot. You never dreamed you’d get to meet this woman. She was an absolute legend amongst female SHIELD Agents.

“God knows we could certainly use another woman around here,” Peggy smiles, gesturing for you to come further into the room. “Sheets for your bed should be in the top drawer to the right. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” you smile kindly. You glance at the paperwork on her desk as you pass by before you set your suitcase down next to your bed. “Are you looking over the reports for the new recruits?”

“Yes,” she stands next to the desk and brushes her fingers over the papers. “Colonel Phillips has made it clear that we are picking our subject from this group. We won’t see the men until tomorrow morning, but just based on their recruitment reports, it’s obvious there’s one that doesn’t seem to belong with the rest.”

You can’t help but chuckle under your breath. “You’re talking about Steve Rogers, aren’t you?” Peggy looks up from the paperwork to meet your gaze. “Dr. Erskine picked Rogers out himself.”

She nods, “I saw the signature of approval, I just can’t figure out why.”

You grin widely, “I think you’ll know by the end of the week.”

She finds herself matching your smile. “Well, now I’m intrigued.”

You laugh briefly and turn to get your suitcase unpacked and your bed made. Steve had once told you that the romance portrayed between himself and Agent Carter had been purely propaganda for the media. Sure, he’d respected the hell out of her, but he only ever saw her as a friend. And supposedly, the feelings had been mutual, so you had no reason to feel threatened by her presence.

“Where are the recruits now?” you ask while stuffing your pillow into a white cotton pillowcase.

“Getting fitted for their uniforms and having their dog tags stamped out. After that, they’ll spend the next several hours filling out paperwork.”

You release a low hum, “Lucky them.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter contains smut (18+)

The next morning, you meet up with Dr. Erskine first thing to go over the plan for the day, along with Colonel Phillips. The Colonel then calls for a vehicle escort to take you all to where Agent Carter is getting the recruits initiated. The vehicle pulls up just in time for you to see her fist flying into one of the recruit’s face.

You scoff out a laugh, wondering what exactly that guy did to piss her off.

“Agent Carter, I can see that you’re breaking in the candidates. That’s good,” Colonel Phillips announces as he approaches the group. He then proceeds to order the soldier the get himself back up.

You stand next to Dr. Erskine and sweep your eyes over the group. You catch Steve’s gaze for a brief moment before he looks straight ahead at attention. You have to glance down at your clipboard to help fight off your smile.

The Colonel begins to pace in front of the recruits and gives his introductory speech. “We are going to win this war because we have the best… men,” he falters when he pauses and glances over at Steve. He turns to shoot Dr. Erskine with a look. The Doctor has to look away to keep his face neutral. “And because they are going to get better,” the Colonel resumes his pacing. “Much better.”

He continues to explain to the men what exactly they have signed up for. An opportunity to become the man that will lead the Allied forces into winning the war. A man who will be the first in a new breed of Super Soldiers. A man who will personally bring Adolph Hitler to the gates of Hell.

“We will be testing you in just about every aspect you can think of. Strength, endurance, agility, cognition, aptitude… By the end of this week, we will know you better than you know yourselves. You are on the clock from now until we’ve made our decision next Monday. You will follow every single order, explicitly as it is given to you. We tell you to jump, just do it, don’t bother asking how high. We will tell you when to eat. We will tell you when to sleep. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” all of the recruits shout simultaneously.

“Sergeant Duffy, you can take it from here,” the Colonel relinquishes control of the recruits to the Drill Sergeant.

“Alright, men! Step into formation!” He orders. “First up is the ropes course! Ready! March!”

You follow after the group, along with Agent Carter. You take notes on the performance and times of each recruit as they complete the course. You bite your lips and cringe inwardly when Steve barely makes it halfway up the rope wall before losing steam. It breaks your heart to have to check the incomplete box next to his name on the paperwork, but you know if you don’t accurately report what’s happening, it will raise several questions with the others.

This is just the beginning of a very long and challenging week. Every day the men are up before dawn, they have 30 minutes to eat breakfast, then they’re jumping right into the next test. Steve’s differences from the others quickly paint a target on his back. One of the recruits, Hodge, the one that Peggy punched on the first day, seems to have a vendetta against him.

You witness Hodge kicking out one of the posts of the barbed wire crawling course, forcing the wires to collapse directly on top of Steve, pinning him down. Sergeant Duffy was quick to put Steve to blame, but you happily wrote a mark against Hodge on his form. You’d definitely be reporting this back to Erskine.

Steve struggles for a few minutes but is eventually able to work himself loose and crawls out of the remainder of the course. You frown when you notice the back of his uniform is cut in several spots. You’re pretty sure you even saw a flash of red.

Later on, the men are given an hour for lunch. As the rest of the group heads for the mess hall, you watch Steve diverge off to the barracks. You rush to your room to grab your first aid kit. You step back out of the officer quarters at the same time he’s leaving the barracks, dressed in a different uniform. You release a quick whistle to catch his attention before jerking your head to the side to indicate he should follow you.

He looks around to make sure no one else has witnessed the interaction before walking over. You take him around the back of the building before ducking behind a series of large crates. “Vic, what are you doing? We’re going to get in trouble,” Steve whispers.

“Sit down and take your shirt off,” you instruct, kneeling on the ground to open your first aid kit.

“There’s no need for that. I’m fine,” he huffs stubbornly.

You fix him with a pointed look. “Steve, the sooner you stop arguing with me, the sooner we’ll be done, and then the less likely we’ll be caught.”

He stares back for a moment before giving in with a dejected sigh. He looks around once more before ducking behind the creates, too. He starts unbuttoning his uniform and turns around to sit cross-legged with his back toward you. Once the shirt if off, you hiss at the sight of the cuts on his back. Most aren’t too bad, but there’s one going across his right shoulder blade that’s deeper than the rest.

“You and I have very different meanings for the term _fine_ ,” you scoff.

“It’s really not that bad. Just hurts when I, you know, move…”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head at him. There’s that stubborn jerk you know and love. Leaning forward, you press your lips to the back of his neck. He turns his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder.

“What was that for?”

You smile, “A distraction from the pain.”

He releases a low hum before turning his head back. You disinfect your hands before reaching out to inspect the deeper cut. You prod gently at the skin around the cut. Luckily, it’s not quite as deep as you originally feared and it won’t need stitches.

“This is going to sting,” you warn as you rip open a disinfectant wipe packet. You dab as gently as you can to the cut, but Steve still releases a harsh breath.

“Think I could maybe use another distraction,” he comments, his voice tight.

You oblige with a kiss to the top of his shoulder. Once you’re satisfied that you’ve cleaned up the cut, you pull out your healing spray from Shuri. “This will feel a little cold at first, but then it will start to numb the pain,” you explain before spraying over the wound. You tape a piece of gauze over the cut to keep it protected before moving onto the smaller cuts.

As the gel begins to take effect, the tension in Steve’s shoulders begins to ease. Your concentration breaks when he releases a long sigh. “Vic, what the hell am I doing here?” he asks, sounding dejected.

“You earned your spot, Steve. Same as the rest of them.”

He scoffs dryly. “But I’m nothing like the rest of them.”

“That’s a _good_ thing!” you insist. “Steve, you know that this isn’t just about who’s tallest, fastest, or strongest. Your strengths are up here,” you tap at his temple. “Find a way to use that to your advantage.”

“Can’t exactly think my way out of a push-up…” He sighs, looking off into the distance. “I’m just so tired.”

You’re not surprised. He’s pushing his body past its limits. “I know,” you scratch comfortingly at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “But it’s just a few more days. I know that you can do this.”

The scratch of your nails on his scalp helps to relax him. “Thanks, Vic. It’s nice knowing there’s someone here that’s on my side.” He looks over his shoulder to meet your gaze once again.

“I’m always on your side. Even when you’re being a stubborn jerk.” You smirk humorously.

He chuckles quietly and lets you finish bandaging him up. The rest of the cuts don’t need as much attention, just a quick spray of the healing gel before covering them with a few bandages, so the gel won’t rub off on his uniform.

“Okay, you’re done,” you tell him, so he can put his uniform shirt back on as you pack up your kit and collect the trash.

He slips the shirt over his shoulders but leaves it unbuttoned as he turns to face you, sitting on his knees. “Can I get one last distraction?”

When you lift your gaze to catch his, he taps a finger to his bottom lip, right where he’s giving you a goofy grin. You match the grin with one of your own before leaning forward on your hands and knees. You tilt your head and press your lips to his. As much as you want to give in to the kiss and spend the whole afternoon with him tucked behind these crates, you know it won’t be long before someone comes looking for the two of you. If you’re caught together it would immediately disqualify Steve from the program, so you keep things short.

Pulling back, you blink your eyes open. Steve’s face looks more relaxed than it has his entire time here. You smile at him encouragingly, “Go show ‘em what you’re made of, Rogers.”

Darting forward, he places one last peck against your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

He finishes buttoning up his shirt and stands. He looks around to make sure the coast is clear before reaching a hand down to help you to your feet. You have him go first then wait a minute before stepping out from behind the crates and make your way back to your room to put away your first aid kit.

-

Dr. Erskine grabs you during breakfast the next morning to go over the progress on the recruits so far. While you’re in your meeting with him, the recruits are taken on their endurance run around the entire camp. It will take the full morning to complete the round trip. You can’t help but be worried about Steve, especially since you’re not there to watch out for him.

You step back outside to meet up with the recruits at the same time that they are returning from their run. You feel dread pooling deep in your gut when you see Steve sitting in the back of the escort vehicle. As you hurry your approach, you find that he doesn’t appear to be injured. In fact, he looks rather content. Maybe even a little smug.

The vehicle comes to a stop, along with the rest of the recruits. Sergeant Duffy dismisses them to lunch, a rather sour look on his face as he holds a bundled green cloth in his arms. Steve hops out of the back of the truck, confirming your thought that he’s not injured.

“What happened?” you ask as he approaches.

“The Sergeant said that if anyone could bring him the flag at the halfway point, they’d get a ride back the rest of the way. I pulled the pins out of the bottom of the flagpole. Once the pole was on the ground, getting the flag was easy.” He shrugs casually.

You and Dr. Erskine share a look, trying to conceal your smiles to not show favoritism in front of the others.

“That is one way to do it,” Dr. Erskine tells him before you both let him continue to the mess hall for lunch.

The two of you then meet up with Agent Carter to get her notes on the recruits after their run.

By the end of the week, Steve has found a few other areas to shine through. Every time you give Dr. Erskine your reports, you can tell that it’s only helping to affirm his feelings on picking Steve for Project Rebirth. You’re currently watching the recruits running through their afternoon exercises, with Agent Carter leading them through a round of push-ups. Your attention is momentarily pulled away from the group when Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips walk up, arguing over Erskine’s apparent choice to pick Steve.

“You don’t win wars with _niceness_ , Doctor,” the Colonel huffs and digs through a weapons create in the back of one of the military trucks. He pulls something out of one of the creates that you can’t quite make out from your position. “You win wars with guts.” In the next second, he tosses the object into the group of recruits. “Grenade!” he shouts and your heart completely stops.

You’re about to dart into the fray as the recruits completely scatter, but then you notice one individual jumping directly onto the grenade. “Get away!” Steve screams, huddling over the explosive device. “Get back!”

Time seems to come to a complete stop as you think that this is the moment you’re going to watch him die. A full second passes, then another. As time seems to start moving once more at a normal pace, you realize that the grenade never went off. Everyone else seems to come to this conclusion at the same time and Steve begins to push himself out of his huddled position.

“It was a dummy grenade,” one of the other soldiers announce and everyone begins to collect themselves. “All clear.”

You find yourself releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Steve looks around in confusion. “Is this a test?” he asks.

You look over to Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips to find the two in a staring match. “He’s still skinny,” the Colonel mutters before walking around the doctor and heads off. Erskine watches his movements, trying to hold back a smile of amusement. Once the Colonel is out of sight, he gives that smile to Steve

-

It’s your last night at Camp Lehigh and you can’t even pretend to fall asleep. You should feel relief, knowing that Steve was successful in getting chosen for Project Rebirth. And a part of you is. But this means that tomorrow is your last day here in this time. Tomorrow is the whole reason you even ventured back into 1943. Tomorrow is your one shot at getting the serum. Tomorrow… you go home.

Unable to stand one more second laying still in your bed, you push yourself up and move the blankets off your legs. Peggy is fast asleep in her own cot, but she’s a light sleeper, so you try not to make too much noise as you slip out of bed. You grab your silk robe to throw over your nightgown once you’ve stepped out of the room. You twist the knob of the door as you carefully pull it shut, so it won’t click. You then walk barefoot out of the Officer Quarters and make your way over to the barracks. As you approach the main door, you pause when it opens on its own.

Dr. Erskine steps out, and he catches you standing there. He chuckles quietly, holding the door open for you. “Don’t keep him up too late.”

An embarrassed smile crosses your face. “I won’t, Doctor.” You slip inside before the door shuts behind you.

Steve is sitting on the side of his cot, with his back toward the door. He looks over his shoulder as you approach, quickly standing to his feet when he sees it’s you. “Vic!”

As soon as he’s within reach, your hands dart out to yank him close. You wrap your arms around his chest and bury your face into his neck, holding him tight. He stiffens at first, before relaxing into your hold.

“Is this my congratulations?” he asks with a gentle laugh.

“This is because you jumped on top of a grenade, like an idiot, and scared me half to death!” You squeeze him a little tighter. “I need to know that you’re okay,” you mumble against the side of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wrapping his arms around your waist.

When you feel the comfort of his nearness beginning to seep into you, you lean back and unwrap an arm to hold the side of his face. “This is your congratulations,” you say before placing your lips over his.

His arms tighten around your waist as he kisses back eagerly. “God, I missed having you so close,” he whispers against your lips.

Instead of his words causing you comfort, they hit you with a cold dose of reality. You pull back with a snap, your breath hitching.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, looking at you with concern.

You feel the pain in your chest like a knife to your heart, and you’re sure it’s plain to see on your face. “Steve, there’s something I need to tell you,” you confess.

His eyes become cautious and guarded. “What is it?”

You release a shaky breath, feeling the tears already beginning to well in your eyes. “After the procedure tomorrow… I have to go away.”

“Go away?” he repeats, brows furrowing. “You’re getting reassigned?”

“I-” you start before cutting yourself off. You know you can’t tell him the full truth. He wouldn’t understand. “Yes,” you force out. “I’m getting reassigned.”

His gaze flickers between yours, trying to get a read on anything that you can give him. “Well, where to? Maybe I can get assigned there also.”

You shake your head, your lips trembling as you attempt to fight off your tears. “No, you can’t. It’s something I have to do alone.”

He looks like he still doesn’t understand. “So, what does that mean for us?”

You exhale sharply, looking up as a last-ditch effort to keep the tears from falling. “It means we won’t see each other again.”

“ _Ever?_ ”

All of your efforts begin to fail when your gaze drops to his once more and you see the look on his face. He looks absolutely heartbroken. You feel that knife in your chest dig a little deeper. “Not for a long time.”

He watches as you begin to fall apart in his arms, but he just can’t accept it. Steve Rogers never gives up on anything. “No, we can find a way to make it work. I’ll talk with Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips after the procedure. If it works, they’ll have to say yes, right? And even if they say no, we can still write letters to each other. This doesn’t have to be-”

“Steve,” you cut in. You can’t allow him to get his hopes us. “This is our last night.”

His breaths come in quick like he’s gearing up for a fight, but when he sees the raw pain in your eyes, he knows that now isn’t the time for arguing. Maybe he can change your mind before tomorrow. Maybe he can’t. If this truly is the end… “Then, let’s make the most of it.”

His hands cradle your cheeks before he pulls your face against his. He’s in complete control of this kiss and you are more than happy to submit to him. You’re not sure where this sudden burst of confidence has come from, but you are reveling in it. His hands slip from your cheeks, down your neck, and over your shoulders. He pushes against your robe until it’s falling to the floor.

The two of you stumble over to his cot, not wanting to part, as your hands roam over each other’s bodies. Your hands slip beneath his white SSR t-shirt before they crawl up his stomach. He releases you just long enough to tuck his dog tags inside the shirt before he helps you pull it off. He sits in the middle of the mattress and you crawl to sit on his lap, your nightgown bunching up at your thighs.

You hover over him, hands on his shoulders as you barely skim your lips against his. He stretches his neck up as you tease, trying to get more from you. Your lips split into a grin before your tongue darts out to swipe straight up the middle of his mouth. His hands shake when they grip your hips.

“Have you done this before?” he asks breathlessly.

You stop your movements and pull back to meet his gaze. “I have,” you confirm. “Does that bother you?”

He shakes his head fervently. “Oh, no,” he insists, squeezing your hips a little tighter. “As long as it doesn’t bother you that I haven’t…” He drops his gaze for a moment.

Your lips spread into a sweet smile and you run your fingers through his hair, lifting his gaze back up. “That doesn’t bother me at all, Steve,” you assure him.

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and you can tell he has more to say, so you wait patiently for him. “Bucky once told me that sometimes women don’t feel pleasure if you don’t do it right.” He pauses, looking at you with concern. “Will you teach me?”

You look at him with so much tender affection, he can feel it in his soul. “Of course.” You settle yourself a little more comfortably over his lap, with your knees framing his hips. “Just start by touching me.”

He glances down at where his hands rest at your hips, then his eyes travel back up the length of your body. “Where?” he questions.

“Everywhere.” Leaning back down, you capture his lips and kiss him fiercely.

His hands seem to take on a life of their own. They trail up your sides, exploring your curves so delicately, one would think you were made a glass. They skim just past the edge of your breasts, not quite brave enough to venture there quite yet. He traces the dip of your collar bone and the bend of your shoulders. As you continue to mold your mouth to his, he uses the touch of his fingers to paint the image of your body in his mind.

His hands then skim down your back, fingers spread wide so as not to miss a single inch. They come to a stop just below the curve of your lower back. Pulling out of your kiss, you breathe heavily as you catch his hooded gaze. Releasing his shoulders, you reach back and grip each of his wrists. Continuing to hold his gaze, you push his hands down even further until they are well and truly settled over the globes of your ass.

Steve’s breath hitches and his pupils dilate completely. He may not realize it yet, but you know your man has a thing for your ass. You grin deviously when you feel his hands squeeze. You rock your hips encouragingly, rubbing up on the erection that’s begun forming in his pants. He grunts in surprise at the sensations running through him and he squeezes your ass again. He feels like his heart is about to beat right out of his chest, it’s pounding so hard.

Wanting to touch even more of you, Steve’s hands glide down your thighs and slip under the hem of your satin nightgown. He moves at a pace slower than a snail as he moves back up your legs. His fingertips brush the curve of your ass once more, and when he expects to feel cloth again, he finds nothing but skin. His lips part in shock. “You’re not wearing underwear…” he realizes.

You can’t help the short giggle that slips out. “No, I’m not,” you confirm.

He swallows thickly, trying to process that information. “Do you do that a lot?” he questions, wondering how many nights you’ve shared a bed together like this.

“Sometimes,” you respond cryptically.

He releases a shaky breath, “Oh God, I’m going to hell for this.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. “Well, then we can go together.”

“Can…” his mouth has gone dry and his voice cracks. He has to clear his throat to try again. “Can I see you?”

“You can if you take off my nightgown,” you grin cheekily.

He fumbles a little, getting the satin material up to your waist. You help him remove the gown and let it fall to the floor. And suddenly Steve has a very naked woman sitting over him. After a quick glance over you, he quickly realizes that he could spend hours looking over your body and would never grow bored. He could explore you as he would an art museum. Looking for every single minuscule little detail within the great masterpiece. Lose himself in the curve of your hip, or the swell of your breasts, or between your thighs.

You notice where his gaze drops to and recognize the curious interest in his eyes. You take one of his hands back in yours and slowly bring it to the junction of your thighs. His fingers slide over your folds and he inhales sharply.

“You’re wet…” he surmises.

“I am,” you confirm with a laugh.

His fingers do a little exploring over the area. “Are women always wet like this?”

“No, not like this. It’s mostly just during arousal. It helps to act as a natural lubricant,” you attempt to explain while he’s got his hands on you.

“Where do I… go in?” he questions, his face flushing. He feels like he’s failing in class. Isn’t there some sort of primal instinct that’s supposed to kick in or something?

You smile in understanding and guide him to where he needs to be. “Just press gently,” you encourage. He does as you’ve instructed and slowly, his finger pushes in. Your lips part and you release the sweetest little mewl as your body welcomes him. “Add a second finger,” you urge, more than ready for the satisfying stretch your body has been craving from the moment of arousal.

It’s been a while since you’ve gone this long without sex. Especially since you’d been on that recon mission with the team for several weeks even before coming to 1943. Your body was begging for a little action. You have a brief flicker of thought on whether or not this is technically considered cheating, but then Steve flicks his fingers experimentally, hitting your g-spot, and all other thought promptly falls straight out of your head.

“Oh, right there! Steve, touch me _right there_!”

Steve doesn’t know if he should be watching what he’s doing with his hand or if he can just stare at your face. You’re absolutely breathtaking. Neck stretched, lips parted, eyes closed. You’re a picture of pure bliss. Your hips begin to rock against his fingers as your body tries to chase after its first orgasm. Reaching down for his hand once more, you position his thumb over your aching clit.

“Rub that in little circles.” You’re growing more and more breathless the longer he plays with you. The sounds coming out of you are so sweet, Steve can nearly taste the sugar in the air. You try not to be too loud, knowing there’s night patrol walking around the camp and you don’t want to call their attention. “Oh, Steve. That-” your voice drops with a sharp exhale. “That feels so good.”

Your hips stutter against his touch and your breasts heave with every breath. Steve is mesmerized by you. He’s not sure what drives him to do it, be it that instinct finally kicking in, or purely an insatiable need, but he leans forward and takes one of your breasts into his mouth. This must be the correct move because the sound that rips out of you shoots straight to his throbbing cock. Your hands dive into his hair, tugging and gripping at the strands, but also keeping him close and encouraging him.

Steve does his best to divide his attention, keeping his hand moving between your legs while he mouths at your breast. He tries to keep his teeth out of the equation, unsure if that will hurt you. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the hardened bud. His other hand reaches back down to grab at your ass once more. He uses that hand as leverage to keep you close and encourage the way you rock into his probing fingers.

“Oh _yes!_ Right there, Steve! _Don’t stop!_ ”

He’s not entirely sure which area you’re referring to, so he keeps up with it all. He sucks even harder on your breast, circling his tongue around the sensitive bud. His hand between your legs is beginning to grow tired, but he doesn’t dare stop, and he continues to squeeze and push the globe of your ass.

Your voice continues to rise in pitch the closer you get to your peak. “Oh my God! Oh, _Steve!_ Yes! _Yes!”_ And suddenly, your body is tensing above him and your walls spasm around his fingers. Your climax hits you like a splash of paint on a blank canvas. You’re seeing all sorts of colors and swirls behind your closed eyelids. You hold onto him tight, afraid that if you let go, you’ll get whisked away.

He pulls away from your breast, not wanting to miss the sight of your euphoria, but he continues the movement of his hands. His fingers are pushed in deep, stroking at your quivering walls and thumbing at your clit. Your entire body shakes around him. Steve feels like he’s strung so tight that he may just join you with the barest hint of touch to his straining cock.

“Okay, okay,” you ease, gripping at his wrist as your body begins to come down from your high. He’s more than happy to keep going, but you’re going to go nuts from over-sensitivity if he keeps it up. “That was good,” you huff with a breathless laugh, guiding his hand to gently pull out from between your legs. “So good…” you drop your head unceremoniously to his shoulder, needing a second to collect yourself.

He feels your breath fan across his chest, sending tingles in its wake. “I didn’t kill you, right?” he asks jokingly.

You giggle breathlessly, lifting your head back up. “No. You were perfect.” Cupping his face in your hands, you slant your lips over his in a sloppy kiss and start to lean forward until Steve falls back against his pillow. Your mouth drags away from his, over the side of his jaw and down his neck.

“What are you doing now?” Steve asks as your lips ghost down the center of his chest.

You place a kiss just above his belly button before grinning up at him devilishly. “Now I’m going to do you.” Your fingers hook into the waistband of his pants, popping the top button and dragging down the zipper. In one move, you pull his pants and boxers off his legs, allowing them to join the remainder of your clothes on the floor. Steve’s cock is hard and ready for you, laying against his abdomen. He’s not as thick as you’re used to, but he’s definitely got more length than you were expecting. He’s also got a bit of an upward curve right now that seems to have gone away after the girth built up.

Your gaze flickers up to see that he’s watching you intently for your reaction. You give him just the barest hint of a smirk before you lean down and drag your tongue over him from base to tip. His lips part in a shaky breath and he throws his head back. You swipe over the very end of his tip, getting a taste of the pre-cum that’s dribbling out of his head. You wrap your fingers around his base to hold him steady before you take him into your mouth.

“Good God!” he cries out, hips jerking up and his back arching. His grips the bedsheets, his knuckles immediately turning white as he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s never felt anything like this before and he knows that it’s way too much. “Vic, honey, you gotta stop,” he begs despite the way his body thrusts up into your hot mouth. “I won’t last,” he shakes his head fervently, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing up.

Having mercy on him, you release him with a parting lick to the slit on his head. You keep your hand wrapped around him as you sit up on your knees and begin to get yourself into position above him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you ask for his consent one last time before it becomes too late.

His eyes blink back open and meet yours before he nods. “Yes, I want this,” he confirms. “I want you, Vic.”

You smile sincerely and move to line him up with your entrance. His tip has just barely brushed against your slick folds when he jolts and tightly grips your hip.

“Wait! Wait,” he rushes, making you pause. You’re about to move off of him, but his grip holds you steady. “I’m not wearing a condom,” he tells you in a hurry before you’ll think he’s backing out. “I don’t even have one…”

Your muscles relax as you laugh lightly. “It’s okay. I have birth control.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “What is that?”

You realize too late that modern birth control hasn’t been invented yet. “Uhm… well, I have an IUD. It’s like a small device inside me that releases a certain type of hormone that prevents fertilization.”

“Oh,” he states simply, but wonders why he’s never heard of anything like that before. It certainly sounds handy. “And that’s effective?”

“Yes,” you smile in amusement. “So, can I…” you glance down to where you’re still holding him.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Go ahead.” His cheeks flare with embarrassment.

You giggle at his awkwardness. “You’re so adorable.”

He winces slightly at that, his cheeks only getting hotter. “Not exactly the words most men want to hear when you’ve got your hands on his penis.”

You laugh again and stroke his length in a comforting gesture. “Well, you’re not most men.” You settle back over him and align his tip against your entrance. “You’re _my_ man.” With that said, you begin to sink down onto him. Your body welcomes every single inch that fills you until he’s pushed in to the hilt.

“Oh wow…” he breathes, hands gripping your hips even tighter.

“You okay?” you ask a little breathlessly, your body thrumming with sexual energy.

“Yeah…” he responds brokenly, trying to hang onto his last shred of control. He’s never felt anything like this before, there aren’t even enough words to describe what he’s feeling. Good is an understatement. Great is way off the mark. Euphoric might be close, but it still seems to fall short.

You give him a second to get used to the feeling of being inside you. Your fingers glide up his flat stomach and over the ridges of his ribcage. Sure, this body is smaller than you’re used to, but he’s definitely not as delicate as everyone has been made out to believe. This last week has certainly taught you that much. No matter what got thrown at him and no matter how hard he took a beating, Steve still managed to persevere. He picked himself back up and he kept moving forward. His inner strength somehow manages to shine brighter when he doesn’t have the muscles to back it up. Even though you’d been scared out of your mind when he jumped on that grenade, you’re also _so_ incredibly proud of him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, causing your gaze to lift back up to meet his.

“Like what?” you question, wondering what he’s reading off your expression.

“Like I’m the only man in the whole world that matters.”

The love that you feel for him in your heart swells like a balloon. You lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands, and brush your nose against his. “Because you are,” your words caress his lips moments before you capture them.

You start to move your hips in slow circles, taking great pleasure in the way he twitches inside you. His hands squeeze your hips before they fall back down to your ass. He uses his grip as leverage to start rocking up into you. His movements are a little sloppy, more of a reaction rather than a coordinated effort. It feels good either way and you have to pull your lips back to release the delighted gasp that’s desperate to escape.

Your hands reach up to grip the metal bar from the bed frame as you find a rhythm to grind down against Steve’s gentle thrusts. His parted lips are swollen and red from your kisses as they release stunted gasps and heady grunts from deep within his chest. His heart is pounding so fast, he thinks it might just burst, but if this is the last thing he ever gets to experience before he dies, it will be well worth it.

“Can I go faster?” you ask with a needy whimper.

Steve thinks he may pass out, but because he’s a sucker for pain, he nods his head fervently. Your grip on the bed frame tightens and the muscles in your thighs quiver as you begin to bounce yourself on his cock. “Oh _shit!_ ” Steve’s eyes roll back as unimaginable pleasure sparks through him. Every time you slam down on his cock it sends a bolt of electricity licking up his spine. He brings his knees up and digs his heels into the mattress, so he can meet you thrust for thrust. Just about every muscle in his body is screaming in protest from this past week of hard training, but he pushes through the pain because the pleasure is way too good to stop now.

Your body pulls him in so deep, he feels like he’s going to fall into you. And maybe, he already has. These last two weeks he’s spent with you have felt like a dream. You dropped into his lap like a fallen angel and every moment since has been pure fantasy. You seem to embody everything he ever hoped he could get out of a partner. You saw him for the man he actually is, not the one you wished he could be. You treated his jagged and broken edges with gentle understanding and care, instead of choosing to throw him out with the trash like so many others had before.

You made him feel like a man capable of giving and receiving love and affection. You weren’t just a flickering candle in the dark. You were a bright, shining beacon, like a lighthouse in a storm. Your light chased away his insecurities and made him believe that he could do the impossible. He wanted to spend every day of the rest of his life basking in your radiance.

“ _Steve!_ Oh my- _Oh!_ ” Your back arches and your entire body quakes with the power of the orgasm that crashes through you.

The way you clamp around him has Steve seeing stars. Just a few more quick thrusts and he’s emptying himself into you. Your bodies quiver in tandem as your hold on the bed frame weakens before you collapse against his chest. You’re both sweaty and your skin sticks together, but neither of you seems to mind.

“That…” he starts, in between his heaving breaths. “Was pretty incredible.”

You release a tired giggle and attempt to move at least part of your weight off of him. There’s not much room to go anywhere on the tiny, single-person cot, though. His hands slide up from your ass, to curl around your waist, and he keeps you close. His cock, limp and satiated, slips out from your folds when you shift back, landing with a wet slap against his thigh. You can feel a dribble of his thick cum beginning to leak out from between your legs, but you are entirely too worn-out to do anything about it.

You’re already half asleep by the time Steve tries to coax you up enough to be able to peel back the blanket and sheets on the bed. You tuck your head under his chin and slide a knee between his legs, relishing in the feeling of getting to sleep in his arms one more time. Your sigh of content is the last thing Steve hears before he falls asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve manages to get a few short hours of sleep before his mind is pulled back to reality. As his eyes flicker open, he can see the sky is just beginning to lighten into morning. He feels the comforting weight of your head on his chest, your breaths are soft and even as it scatters across his skin. He watches over you for as long as possible, before the needs of his bladder become too great to ignore.

He’s gotten better at maneuvering out from underneath you without waking you in the process. He slips out of bed and pulls his pants back on before walking to the far end of the barracks where the door to the bathroom is. After completing his business, he makes his way back to you and smiles at the sight he sees.

You’re lying on your stomach, face buried into his pillow with your arms wrapped underneath. Your hair falls in disarray around your head and down your back. The blanket rides just below your hips, leaving the full expanse of your back open to his perusal. You look like a piece of art, which has Steve delving into his suitcase to pull out his sketchbook.

He takes a seat on the cot next to his and props the sketchbook on his knee, opening it to a new page. His charcoal pencil flies across the blank page, marking out your details in record speed. From the curve of your back to the pout of your lips; the arch of your brow to the peak of your knee from beneath the blanket. He leaves nothing out, not even the scar on your back from the wound he’d helped you patch up just two weeks ago.

He can barely believe that it’s already fully healed. He knows it has to have been that healing gel from your first aid kit. When you’d used it on the cuts on his back, he’d noticed that he was completely healed later that same night. He didn’t know how it was possible, but he’d been too preoccupied to track you down and ask.

He’s just putting the finishing touches to the sketch when you begin to stir. It starts with a change in your breathing before you slowly start to move. Your bent leg stretches back down, causing the bedsheet to ride just a little lower down your hips. Your hands slip out from beneath the pillow and you reach one back behind you, patting blindly at the empty space of the mattress. A cute little frown pulls at your lips before your eyes slowly blink open.

As your gaze comes into focus and settles on him, that frown flips up into a blissful smile. “G’ morning,” you mumble sleepily through that smile.

Steve chuckles through the huskiness of his own morning voice. “Good morning.”

“I didn’t kick you out of bed, did I?” you ask.

“No,” he shakes his head softly.

Your gaze drops to the book in his lap and you grin knowingly. “Are you sketching me in my sleep, Rogers?” you ask with a teasing lilt.

His face flushes, caught red-handed. “Y-yeah. Is that okay?” he hadn’t stopped to think if you would be comfortable with him doing that, he just knew that he needed to capture your beauty in that exact moment.

Your soft giggles help to ease his fears. “It’s okay as long as I get to see it.”

His heart leaps in embarrassed nervousness, but he pushes up from the cot to move closer. You sit up to make room for him as he turns to sit on the edge of the bed. He’s hyper-aware of your naked breasts against his back when you push in close to look at the sketch over his shoulder. You hum happily and wrap your arms around his torso. Your heat seeps into him everywhere your skin touches his and it feeds the fire burning in his soul.

Your fingers reach out to brush over the page, careful not to smudge any of the fresh charcoal. “I like the way you draw me,” you tell him sincerely. “So relaxed and carefree. Almost ethereal, even.”

Ethereal is a good way to put it. Any time Steve looks at you, he swears that he’s actually looking at a living, breathing goddess. You remain curled around him, soaking up your last few moments before looking at how bright it’s starting to get outside the window.

You release a soft sigh and press a kiss to the back of his shoulder. “I should head back to the officer quarters. Dr. Erskine wanted to head to the lab fairly early to prepare for the procedure.”

You shift away from him and move to stand. You’re about to bend over to collect your clothes when you feel a tug at your wrist. Turning around, you allow Steve to pull you closer until you’re standing between his legs. “Do you really have to go?” he asks, the vulnerability leaking from his voice as he looks up at you.

He’s not talking about right now. He’s talking about after the procedure. It makes your heart ache to see the despair in his eyes. “Yes,” you reply, just barely above a whisper. Any louder and you know your voice will crack.

His gaze drops as he leans forward to rest his forehead against your stomach, hands clutching at your waist. You let him have his moment, running your fingers soothingly through his hair. He nuzzles softly against your skin, trying to fill his head with your unique scent so that he won’t ever forget it.

When he lifts his head back up, his gaze flickers to the bullet scar on your abdomen. He leans forward once more and presses his lips to the area. A sense of déjà vu hits you at full force once again, as you suddenly remember all the times your Steve has touched you in that same spot. Even before you ever had a mark there.

The first time you’d decided to sleep together, you’d been standing in his room at the foot of his bed, unable to pull your lips away from his mouth. When your shirt had been discarded, Steve had promptly dropped to his knees and he pressed his lips to this exact spot. He then proceeded to spend a good several minutes driving you wild has he licked and sucked on the spot until a bruise had formed.

Any time you’d run through combat training with him, if you were only wearing a sports bra then once he had you pinned down, he’d send you that cheekily little grin of his before placing a kiss to this spot on your belly and then he’d help you up to keep training.

During group movie nights, while the two of you huddled close with his arm wrapped around your waist, sometimes his hand would slip beneath the hem of your shirt and he’d absentmindedly rub his fingers over the same area.

Your mind is still reeling when Steve pulls back and gently pushes at your hips to make room for him to stand and step around you. “I’m going to shower,” he mumbles quietly.

Your heart is racing just as fast as your mind as you try to pull your focus back to this present and turn to watch him walk pasts the rows of beds to the back of the barracks. He doesn’t look back as he disappears behind the door to the shared bathroom.

With one hand pressed to your drumming heart, you reach down with the other to grab your nightgown from the floor and pull it back on. The silk robe comes next. You pull the sheets on his bed back into place after that. You’re not sure why you’re dilly-dallying. You really need to go, but you’re desperately trying to soak in every last possible second of him. With nothing else left to do, your fingers brush over the items in his open suitcase. It’s just clothes and books, but it’s still a part of him.

With one last look to the door at the back of the barracks, you release a sad sigh and turn to leave.

“Were you out all night?” Peggy asks immediately as you enter the room. She’s sitting at her desk already dressed and in the middle of applying her makeup.

You wince slightly, having semi-forgotten that you had a roommate. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Something wrong?” she asks, noticing the strange inflection in your voice.

You mentally curse her for being so perceptive. “Just nervous about the procedure,” you make up as you step further into the room and move to your side. You grab a towel knowing that you need to grab a quick shower to wash the scent of sex from your skin.

“Don’t you think we picked the correct person?” she wonders, not understanding your nerves.

“Oh, I know we did. Just… there’s a lot that can go wrong today.” There’s a lot that _will_ go wrong today. The thought is enough to make you sick.

“Everything will turn out,” Peggy assures you. “You just need to have faith.”

You scoff at the word, the irony not lost on you upon the realization that it’s the same word you used to inspire Dr. Erskine. “I guess we’ll see,” you mutter, passing back behind her to duck into the bathroom for your shower.

Once you’re clean and properly dressed, you begin to pack your things. A strange feeling washes over you as you do so. You’re not just packing up to leave the camp… you’re packing up to leave for good. Peggy is already gone by the time you step out of the shower, so you no longer have to hide your feelings behind cleverly crafted lies.

You have a complete breakdown in the middle of the room as your heart breaks in two. You don’t just feel torn, you feel absolutely _shredded_. Steve is already in a vulnerable state of mind and you know you’ve only made things worse for him. Will he be able to make it through the procedure now with his mind unfocused?

To make matters worse, the guilt has been eating away at your soul ever since you’d come to the conclusion that you can’t do anything to save Dr. Erskine’s life. He was the sweetest man and you’d come to see him as a friend over these last two weeks, but all the confusion that stems from the Hydra attack is your best chance of getting the serum without anyone interfering. This is your only chance. You can’t mess it up.

When you feel like you have no more tears left to give, you clean yourself up and apply a slightly thicker amount of makeup to help conceal your tear swollen features. You pack your toiletry bag into your suitcase and then pull out the pistol. You look it over and feel the weight of it in your hands. With a resigned breath, you click the magazine into place, ensure that the safety is locked, and then you tuck the weapon into your thigh holster.

You pull out the case of particle discs and shrink your suitcase back down to its miniaturized version. It slips into your pouch, along with the disc case, before you tuck the pouch into a pocket on the inside of your dress coat. With your holster now holding the gun, there’s not enough room for both items without pulling someone’s attention to the area.

You take one last glance around the room to make sure you’ve left nothing behind. With a nod of your head, you step out to meet with Dr. Erskine.

The entire ride from Camp Lehigh to the lab, he’s flipping through a notebook, muttering to himself and jotting things down.

“I thought you said the formula was ready,” you state, breaking him from his train of thought.

He pauses and looks over at you. “It is. I am just running through the calculations to ensure I make enough for the six vials.”

Your heart skips a beat when you hear the number that falls from his mouth. “Six? Why not seven?”

He gives you a strange look. “The machine only takes six.”

You swallow thickly and try to act natural. “I know, but don’t you think there should be at least one extra? What if one of the nurses drops one or they don’t insert it correctly and they break the tip of the vial? It’s better to have a contingency, right? A backup.” You try to persuade him. “We can destroy it after the procedure, but you said it yourself, the components will degrade on their own, so there’s not much risk in just making one more vial…”

You hold your breath as he thinks it over. “Okay. I guess that makes sense. But now I have to re-do all my calculations,” he frowns before smiling teasingly at you.

You release your held breath with a light laugh. A laugh that you don’t really feel, because in just a few hours, this wonderful man will be dead, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

The laboratory is a beehive of activity as everyone prepares for the procedure. Several doctors, scientists, and nurses occupy the main space, checking the machinery and prepping several stations of medical equipment. Upon arrival, Dr. Erskine quickly steps into a sterile backroom to put the formula together and leaves you with instructions to oversee everyone else. Luckily, Howard Stark is too busy checking the levels on his machine, that he doesn’t pay you much attention.

You greet Senator Brandt and his associates upon their arrival, directing them to the observation booth to await the procedure. You try to act unaffected when you’re introduced to the man you know is the Hydra agent. Unable to stand his presence, you step out of the observation room and stand at the railing of the top deck, looking down at the others working. You grip the metal railing tight, needing to hold onto something to stop yourself from charging back in there to rip that man apart.

The sound of the double doors getting pulled open draws your attention and you look over your shoulder as Peggy and Steve step into the room. He meets your gaze as he steps forward to stand next to you before he looks down into the lab. His hands brush the side of yours when he grips the rail himself. You feel your breath hitch when his pinky deliberately glides over yours.

His gaze lifts back up to meet yours and you can tell that he’s nervous. “You can do this, Steve,” you whisper so only he can hear.

His eyes roam all over your face before he nods once and turns to follow Peggy down the metal staircase and over to Dr. Erskine. You remain rooted in place, your hands gripping the rail so tight that they ache.

Steve is instructed to remove his uniform shirt before moving into the Vita-Ray machine. He takes a seat and situates himself in the center, looking up and meeting your gaze one last time before lying back. He and Dr. Erskine share a few words that you can’t hear.

You feel Peggy briefly pat your shoulder as a comforting gesture when she walks past you to get to the observation booth. You give her a small smile of gratitude, but stay where you are. Erskine grabs a microphone and gives it a few test flicks before talking to the observers up in the booth. While he talks, the nurses and doctors get Steve prepared for the procedure, bringing the injection plates down over his chest and setting six of the seven serum vials into their chambers. 

“We begin with a series of micro-injections into the subject’s major muscle groups,” Erskine explains. “The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change. And then, to stimulate growth, the subject will be saturated with Vita-Rays.” Erskine sets the microphone down and moves back to Steve’s side. “Serum infusion in 5, 4, 3…”

Your heartbeat seems to pound harder and faster with each number that falls from the Doctor’s mouth. Even from where you’re standing, you can see that Steve’s breaths have intensified. Erskine places a gentle hand of comfort on Steve’s shoulder.

“2… 1.” Dr. Erskine gives one of the scientists a nod of approval and the man flips the levers to tell the machinery to inject the liquid into Steve’s veins.

His whole body tenses, jaw clenched and eyes squeezed tight before they snap open from the intensity of the cellular change happening instantly as the serum mixes into his bloodstream.

“Now, Mr. Stark,” Erskine advises.

Howard flips the lever that moves the Vita pod into an upward position and locks Steve inside. Erskine knocks on the outside of the pod to check on Steve before announcing that they will proceed.

Everyone pulls out their own set of tinted visors or glasses and Howard prepares the machine for Vita-Ray output. “That’s 10 percent,” he announces as he slowly turns the wheel to increase its output level. When he reaches 40%, one of the other doctors confirms that Steve’s vital signs are normal. That only gives you temporary relief, when at 70% output, Steve begins to scream in pain.

It’s not just a quick yelp; it’s a long, agonizing, guttural cry. Panicking, Dr. Erskine rushes to the pod. “Steven!” he calls out, banging against the metal. Steve doesn’t respond, he just continues to scream. “Steven!”

Your heart beats frantically against your rib cage as Peggy moves out of the observation room to stand next to you at the railing. “Shut it down!” she orders urgently.

Dr. Erskine turns away from the pod, “Kill the reactor, Mr. Stark!”

Howard moves to do as instructed when Steve shouts once again, “No! Don’t! I can do this!”

The two men share a look before Howard moves back to the output wheel. “80… 90… That’s 100 percent!”

The light emanating from the Vita-Ray pod becomes blinding and you can practically feel the energy getting forced into the machine. Several of the consoles around the room begin to spark under the electrical strain. You’re not even sure how much time has passed when the reaction finally completes and the machine begins to power down. Everyone in the room seems to hold their breaths collectively. “Mr. Stark!” Erskine instructs.

The doors to the pod open with a hiss and wafts of steam come pouring out. Steve’s body, which had formerly been a fraction of the size of the pod, can now barely be contained within it. Sweat slicks over the muscles you’re all too familiar with. The pectoral muscles you’ve spent several nights snuggled against heave with each of his breaths. Arms that can rip apart tree trunks lay limp at his sides. Dr. Erskine helps him step out of the pod, and even on week knees, he still towers over the scientist.

He looks up and catches your gaze from where you still stand at the railing. You send him a shaky smile, hoping that you’re far enough that he can’t see the tears in your eyes. You press two fingers to your lips, unsure if he’ll understand that it’s a kiss goodbye before you turn away and blend into the crowd pouring out of the observation room. As they all make their way down into the lab area, you slip out the double doors and take the hallway back to the antique shop.

For your plan to work, you need to be one step ahead of the Hydra agent. Luckily, you know exactly where he’s going to go. Walking out of the shop, you move briskly to the driver that brought you and Dr. Erskine here. He’s leaning casually against the side of the car, talking with a few disguised agents in civilian clothing.

“I need your car keys. It’s urgent,” you tell him, walking straight up to him with your hand held out.

“Ma’am?” he questions, looking at you with confusion.

“Now!” you order, leaving no room for argument.

He pulls the keys out of his pocket and hands them over. You quickly duck into the driver’s seat, glancing at the rearview mirror, you see the men a few cars back eyeing you warily. You know that they are more Hydra agents, but they’re not supposed to act until they get their signal.

That signal comes in the form of the explosion that can be heard from inside the building, right as you pull out onto the road. You slam on the gas pedal and weave in and out of traffic. These old-timey cars don’t quite react the way you’re used to. It’s sluggish to accelerate and can barely turn worth a damn. You park the car right at the entrance to the Brooklyn Pier 13 and hurry out, not even caring that you’ve left the keys inside the vehicle. You make your way to the ship dock where you know the Hydra agent has hidden his submarine. Tucking yourself behind one of the cement pillars, all that’s left to do is sit tight and wait. You reach for the gun stashed in your holster and hold it close to your chest.

You don’t have to wait long before you hear the sound of gunfire and screaming. You slow your breaths in an attempt to keep your heartbeat steady. All your training as a SHIELD agent and an Avenger have brought you to this moment. You’re not about to mess it up now.

Hearing the man’s hurried steps approach, you dart out from your hiding place and attack with the speed of a coiled snake. Your arm swings out, jamming the butt of your gun into his temple and knocking him out in one single move. The forward momentum of his running combines with the force of your blow, causing him to spin and collapse to the ground on his back.

It’s not exactly a Black Widow move, but it’s sure as hell effective. You step over his prone body and crouch down to dig into his pockets until you find the vial in a hidden spot inside his jacket.

“Vic? Where… What are you…? How did you know he would be here?” Steve approaches, staring at you with confusion.

“It doesn’t matter,” you brush him off, your heart pounding now that you finally have the serum. “I have to go.” You stand and step back from the unconscious agent.

“Wait!” Steve darts forward using his newfound agility and grips your wrist. You wince under the pressure of his hold, his strength uncontrolled. He eases up but keeps your arm firmly locked in his grasp. “Where are you taking that?” he questions, indicating to the vial you hold. “You’re not going back to the SSR, are you?”

“Steve…”

His grip begins to tighten uncomfortably once again. “Is this that _reassignment_ you were talking about? Are you another spy? Like _him_?” He glares at the man lying unconscious on the floor.

“No!” you protest. “But Steve, you have to let me go!” You try to tug yourself out of his grip, but it’s like tugging against an iron shackle.

“If you’re not a spy, then we can take it back together.”

“No, you don’t understand. I need it-”

“Need it for what?” You watch as anger and betrayal cloud his eyes. “You’ve been lying to me from the start, haven’t you? Why are you really here? Who are you working for? Answer me!”

“Steve, stop! You’re hurting me!” He doesn’t ease up on his grip this time, despite your whimper of pain. “You can’t take it back! That vial isn’t even supposed to exist! He was meant to drop it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Please, just let me go. I need you to trust me!”

“I _did_ trust you! I let you into my home! Into my life! Into my-” The look of betrayal increases tenfold before it turns into a look of disgust. “You used me. Is this why Erskine picked me? Were you pulling the strings in the background, so that I’d let you get away with the serum? I saw the look in your eyes before you walked out of the lab. You left right before the attack! You knew what was going to happen, didn’t you?! Dr. Erskine is dead now! Do you feel _any_ remorse?”

Tears begin to prick your eyes. You’ve never seen him direct this amount of anger and rage toward you. “Steve, I’m not a spy. I swear.”

He grabs the top of the vial with his free hand and twists your arm until you’re forced to release it to him. “I can’t let you take this.”

“No!” You protest and reach to try to get it back. You freeze instantly when he holds his arm out and high.

“You said it was supposed to get dropped, then I’ll drop it.” He threatens.

“Steve, I am begging you. Please don’t!” You make to reach for it again, but he grips your shoulder with his other hand.

“Then tell me who you’re working for!”

“No one! I swear!” Your heart pounds in your ears and the tears begin to fall as you watch the one hope you have beginning to slip through your fingers.

“I’ll give you to the count of three. One.”

“Steve, no! You have to listen to me-”

“Two.”

You struggle against his hold, screaming at him to stop.

“Thre-”

“You’re _dying_!” You cry out, openly sobbing now.

The devastation in your voice rips through him and gives him pause.

“Where I come from…” you choke on your words, knowing that this is the final nail in the coffin that seals away your reality as you know it. You’ve changed too much already. You know that this is the last straw. But you can’t let him destroy that serum. “ _When_ I come from… you’re sick. And that serum is the only thing that can save you.”

His arm slowly lowers and he releases the grip on your shoulder.

“I’m not a spy, Steve. I’m from the future. If I don’t make it back with that serum, you will die, and I-” your voice cracks. You cup your hands over your face and crumple to your knees. “I can’t lose you!”

You continue to sob into your hands until you feel a gentle touch trying to coax them away from your face. You look through tear-blurred eyes to find Steve crouching in front of you. He no longer looks angry, but his eyes flicker between yours, searching for the truth within them. “Yes, I knew what was going to happen to Dr. Erskine… and I feel _horrible_ about it, but I couldn’t risk changing anything more than I already have! I couldn’t bear to watch it happen, so that’s why I left early and came here to intercept you and get the serum. I am _terrified_ that I’ve messed things up and changed the future that I need to go back to. But I’m more terrified of going back without the serum. I’m not a spy, I promise. I’m just trying to save your life.” You hiccup when his hand reaches out to cradle your face, his thumb swipes over your cheek to dry your tears. “I know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me,” you beg.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows thickly. “Why do you think you’ve messed up the future?”

His question takes you off guard. It’s not the one you’re expecting him to ask. “Because we were never supposed to meet,” you confess. “I was only supposed to come for the serum, but when I got hurt and you took me in, I… I couldn’t stay away.”

“In the future, you and me… we’re…?”

Your gaze softens as you look back at him. “You’re the love of my life.”

Your breath catches in your throat when in the next instant, he’s tugging your body into his chest and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You release a stunted gasp, the familiarity of his muscular form tucked against your body feels like a dream. Your arms curl around his strong torso as you bury your face into his neck and your hands clench at the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Does this mean… Do you believe me?” you ask, the hope that had once been cracking and chipping away inside you begins to bloom.

“I do,” he admits.

You collapse against him as you release a cry of relief. “H-How? Why?” you find yourself asking. Honestly, it’s pretty stupid that you do, when you should just accept his belief and run with it. But the fact that he fully believes that you’re from the future is nearly as crazy as the fact that you _are_.

He releases a breathless laugh before moving back enough to meet your gaze once more. “Because I don’t like sleeping by the window.” He smiles at your look of confusion. “And because I always need to use the bathroom as soon as I wake up.” His free hand reaches up to curl a strand of hair behind your ear as his gaze flickers between your eyes. “Because I loved potato soup as a child.” You think you’re beginning to understand where he’s going with this. “All these little things, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how you could possibly know them about me. You’d either have to be a damn good spy, or…”

“Or…?” you prompt, feeling dizzy.

You can nearly feel the caress of his gaze as it flits over your lips and up your cheek, before connecting with your eyes once more. “Or you’d have to be the woman I’m planning to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Oh, Steve!” You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours. You put your entire body into the kiss, wanting to prove without a shadow of a doubt just how much he means to you. He kisses back eagerly, tugging your body closer until you’re sitting in his lap. You pull away with a wet gasp and drop your head to his shoulder, your whole body shaking.

“Vic, honey, why are you crying?” he asks softly.

“Because I don’t want to leave you!” you sob into his neck. “But I can’t stay. Dr. Erskine said the serum will start to breakdown. If I don’t take it back soon, this will all be for nothing, and you’ll die anyway.” When you lift your head back up, wet trails are traveling down your cheeks. “I’m running out of time!”

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, running a comforting hand up and down your back while he moves to hold the other between you. “Here,” he offers, opening his palm to reveal the serum vial.

Your hand shakes as you reach for it. Taking it back, you hold it close to your chest and look back up at him. “Thank you,” you whisper sincerely. He nods, trusting that it’s in good hands now. You peel back the front of your dress coat and slip the vial into the same internal pocket where your pouch is for safekeeping. You look back up and get lost in the blue of his eyes. “I wish I could tell you everything.”

He looks back, feeling your words fall to his gut. “I know.”

“I have to go,” your lips tremble as you speak.

The look of heartbreak on his face makes you weak. “I know,” he repeats. You move to push out of his hold, but he tightens his grip. “Just-” he spits out quick, to get your attention. “When will I see you again?”

The pain that enters your eyes is answer enough. “Not for a long time.”

His breath rushes out of him like a punch to the stomach.

You wince and place your hands over his cheeks. You hate seeing him so distraught. “Steve, listen to me. You are going to have some very difficult decisions to make. Don’t make your choices based on what you think will bring you back to me. Make the choice because you know it’s the right thing to do. I know that might not make much sense right now, but hopefully, when the time has come, you’ll remember these words and you’ll know what to do. Have faith and know that you’ll always carry me in your heart.”

It’s difficult to process your words, but he nods anyway. “Okay,” he agrees.

“I love you,” you whisper, pulling his head down until his forehead is pressed to yours.

“I’m really going to miss you,” he whispers back, his voice thick with emotion. You share one more second wrapped in the comfort of his arms before pulling back. The two of you climb to your feet. “Will you be okay?” he asks, unsure how dangerous time travel could be.

“Yes,” you assure him gently. You share one last look before your hand slips from his and you turn away.

“Vic, wait!” Steve reaches for your wrist once more, before dropping it quickly when you hiss in pain. Looking down, he gently cradles your arm to take a closer look at the bruise that has formed there. “Did I do that?” he frowns.

“It’s okay,” you try to brush it off and comfort him when he looks at you doubtfully.

“I hurt you.” Shame fills his features. You put your other hand over his where it rests on your arm, and you entwine your fingers through his.

“You’re still getting used to your new strength. It was an accident.” He looks like he’s ready to argue with you, but you really don’t have enough time to get into it with him. “Steve, what were you trying to tell me?” you ask, trying to change his focus.

He gives you a look like he knows what you’re trying to do, but he lets it go. “When we see each other again… Will you remember any of this?”

You release a long breath. “No…” you admit. “No, I won’t.”

“Then…” he swallows thickly and looks down at where your hands are joined. “Do you have any tips on how to get you to fall in love with me? Because I honestly don’t have any idea how I managed to catch an amazing girl like you.”

You laugh sweetly and step up to place a kiss to his cheek. “Just be yourself. You can be pretty charming when you want to be.” You squeeze his fingers before pulling back. “Oh! But one thing… when you get a better handle on these new muscles of yours,” you grin cheekily and poke him in the bicep. “Don’t be afraid to show off in the bedroom. Your girl likes it a little rough.” You shoot him a saucy wink that makes his cheeks flare up.

“Um… okay,” he responds. That’s not exactly what he was going for, but at least it’s something. “And then, one last thing,” he requests. He knows you’re being patient with him, when every second matters, but he has to know. “You and me,” he starts, reaching for your left hand, and his thumb glides over your ring finger. “Are we married?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh and look up at him with that smile that reminds him of Spring. “You haven’t asked me, yet. But I hope you will soon.”

He smiles back and it warms you like feeling sunshine on your skin. “Even if this wasn’t supposed to happen, I’m glad that I met you. I can’t imagine how I would have gotten through any of this without you in my life.”

You reach out to press a hand to his chest. “I will always be with you, Steve.”

He places his hand over yours. “I will carry you in my heart,” he confirms. His hand drops from yours, along with his gaze. “You should go.”

Your eyes turn sad as you retract your hand, but you nod, knowing that he’s right. You take several steps back and lift your arm to look at your watch. After pressing a button on the side, your quantum suit seems to materialize out of nowhere. Steve jumps at the display of modern technology. If he hadn’t been fully convinced that you were from the future, this definitely would have changed his mind.

His breaths come in quicker when he realizes this is truly goodbye. “Good luck,” he speaks, feeling like he needs to say _something_.

Your lips curl into a small grin. “I don’t need luck. I’m Lady Victory.” You hold his gaze for one more second before you hit the button on your time watch to snap your helmet into place and then you’re shrinking out of his existence.

Steve stares at the place you were just standing, barely able to believe that you’re gone. His mind snaps back into focus when he hears a splash of water and some sort of strange mechanical whirring. When he looks back, he sees that the man he’d been chasing has disappeared. He dashes to the edge of the dock and catches sight of a one-manned submarine beginning to submerge. Without thought, he dives after it, straight into the water.


	8. Chapter 8

When you land back in the future, your entire body is shaking. You have just enough strength to hit the button on the time watch to dissolve your quantum suit before you collapse to your knees.

“Vic!” Bucky vaults onto the platform. He kneels in front of you, taking your face into his hands. “Vic, what’s wrong?”

“Did you get the serum?” You can hear Bruce’s voice.

Your breaths come out in sputtering gasps, but you try to fight through it and nod your head. “Yes,” you choke out. “I have it.” Your hands are shaking as you reach for the internal pocket on your coat and hand it over to Bucky. “Dr. Erskine said that the components will begin to degrade the longer it’s left unused. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

Bucky takes the vial and quickly hands it off to Bruce, before returning to you. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What happened?” he coaxes gently.

Tears well up in your eyes when you look back at him. “I think I messed up.”

He gently helps you to your feet and takes you to your bedroom to get cleaned up and changed into something more comfortable as you begin to divulge in full detail what exactly happened when you traveled back in time. He sits patiently on the corner of your bed as you pace up and down the room. You talk until your voice is raw and then you keep going.

“But then he threatened to drop the vial if I didn’t tell him who I worked for! I didn’t know what else to do, so I told him the truth…”

“And he believed you,” Bucky surmises, already putting the pieces together.

“He did,” you confirm, going a little soft as you recall his reasoning for believing you. “But Bucky…” you begin to shake your head fervently. “I broke _every_ rule! I changed _everything_! None of that was supposed to happen!” You gesture wildly off to the side in a vague attempt at pointing toward the past. “And now, it’s too late to fix any of it,” you say brokenly.

Bucky releases a long breath, his mind spinning after everything you’ve just revealed. “Look, I’m not the science expert here and my only experience with time travel is getting shoved into an icebox every few years,” his lame attempt at a joke makes you scoff at best. “But I’m pretty sure that if anything got changed from this, you would be the only one that knows any different. So, let’s start small.”

You tilt your head as you look back at him, not understanding where he’s going with this.

“Look around your room. Is anything different here?” he asks.

As soon as you realize what he’s getting at, you start to walk around the room. Everything is exactly as you had left it. There’s a picture frame on the nightstand on your side of the bed. You’re tucked under Steve’s arm and smiling brightly at the camera. You remember that the photo was taken during one of Tony’s parties. Steve is wearing that tight blue button-up shirt that always drives you crazy and you’re decked out in a pretty red dress. Not even ten minutes after this photo was taken, you and Steve had snuck off for a quickie in the bathroom, because you just couldn’t handle how sexy he was in that damn shirt.

You smile fondly at the picture and move around the rest of the room. The books on your bookshelf are all the same. Half of them are yours, half are Steve’s. The closet is still divided between both of your things, but it’s all the same outfits you’ve seen hundreds of times. The bathroom still has both of your toothbrushes in the cup by the sink. A few different makeup products are scattered over the counter from when you’d been trying to figure out what you were going to take with you to 1943.

You make your way back over to Bucky, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all the same.”

“Okay,” Bucky nods. “And I assume that I’m not any different, right?” He asks. “Now be careful with what you say, because if you tell me I didn’t have to lose my arm, I may just pull this one off and throw it at you,” he jokes again, pointing to his metal arm.

That one manages to successfully pull a laugh out of you, even if it’s a small one. “No, you’re the same. Metal arm included.”

“Alright…” Bucky grunts quietly as he pushes off the bed to stand up. “Then let’s widen our scope. While we’re at it, let’s head to the kitchen and get some food in you.”

You’re not very hungry, but you know that Bucky is just trying to take care of you in Steve’s absence, so you don’t argue. The two of you leave the living quarters and head for the shared kitchen. It’s strange being back. Not only because of the abundance of technology, that you had seriously taken for granted, but also because that feeling of uselessness was beginning to sink back in.

You’d completed your part. You got the serum. Now all that’s left is to wait and see if it paid off. You’re of no use at this point and that is really starting to weigh on you. “Bucky… what if it doesn’t work?” you ask, your voice sounding hollow.

“Don’t say that, Vic. Don’t even think it,” he responds swiftly. “You busted your ass to get us that serum. _It’s going to work_.”

You have to bite your lip to keep it from trembling, your eyes are already so raw from how much you’ve been crying that it physically hurts to tear up. “How can you be so sure?”

His gaze softens when he looks back at you. “You said it perfectly yourself. I have faith.”

–

Bucky was lucky enough to get some food in you but was wholly unsuccessful in getting you to rest. So here you are, 24 hours after arriving back from the past and you’re sitting at Steve’s bedside, desperately scrolling through a tablet reading through as many historical events as you can from the last century, trying to figure out what’s changed. So far, you’ve come up empty.

Bruce showed up at about 3 in the morning to tell you they had a breakthrough with the serum and had been able to synthesize a cure. He had even reached out to Shuri in Wakanda to have her double-check their work before preparing the antidote to administer into Steve’s IV. You gave her a quick phone call to let her know how grateful you were for her help and to tell her how handy her healing gel had been during your travels. When you asked how you could ever repay her, she’d laughed and told you to take her to Disneyland, because T’Challa still refused to take her himself. That made you crack a smile and you quickly agreed to get a trip planned.

Everyone else had, for the most part, left you alone to be with Steve. You are completely exhausted, both physically and mentally, but you can’t seem to let your mind rest. You can’t help but feel in your gut that your presence in the past had to have changed _something_. You just can’t for the life of you figure out what.

“Vic?”

The rough voice has your head snapping up so fast, you get whiplash. “Steve!” You quickly place the tablet down and scramble to your feet.

He blinks heavily, and he looks groggy as all hell, but he’s definitely awake.

“Oh, you big idiot. You scared the shit out of me!” You’re already crying again, just from the relief of seeing him awake.

“Sorry,” he grimaces. “What happened?”

“Those Hydra scientists injected you with some type of anti-serum poison. It almost killed you.”

“Would explain why I feel like shit…” he mumbles.

You scoff out a wet laugh. Reaching up, you push his bangs off his forehead then curl your fingers down his temple and over his smooth cheek. “Jerk,” you tell him affectionately.

His lips tilt into a half-grin before immediately falling into a frown. He grips your arm to stop you from pulling it back. “Vic, what is this?” he questions, looking at the bruise around your wrist. Figures he would notice that in mere seconds of being awake. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to have anyone else look at it yet.

“Oh, it’s nothing…” you try to brush it off and take your arm back, but his grip is surprisingly firm for someone that had literally been just steps away from death. _Damn Super Soldier._

“It’s not nothing,” he insists. “That’s a handprint! Vic, who did-” he cuts himself off, gaze flickering down to where his fingers are wrapped around the middle of your arm and then back up to the bruise. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand travels up the length of your arm until he’s circling your wrist. He’s gentle and doesn’t press on the bruise at all, just hovers over it enough to see the exact match. “ _I_ did this,” he states upon the realization. His brows then furrow in confusion. “Why don’t I remember…?” He inhales sharply, his grip going slack, causing his hand to drop into his lap. In the next moment, his head whips around you meet your startled gaze. “You went back!” he exclaims.

“What-” your jaw drops as you stare back at him, wide-eyed. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. “How…”

“Vic, honey, this is serious. Did you go back to 1943?” Steve questions insistently. He looks just about ready to jump out of the hospital bed if you don’t answer immediately.

You release a shaky breath. “How did you know that?” you question, your mind racing to come up with an explanation for whatever seems to be happening here. You jolt when the medical equipment hooked up to Steve starts beeping because of his elevated heart rate. He pulls the heart monitor clip off of his finger and tries to push himself into an upright position. “Whoa, Steve!” you place your hands on his chest to make him lie back again. “Hon, you need to take it easy. Your body is still trying to fight off the poison and you haven’t received the full dose of the antidote, yet.” You hit the button on the side of the bed to lift him up into a seated position.

“Vic, where’s my suit?” he asks urgently.

“Your suit?” you question, not understanding why he’s asking about it. “It’s right here,” you point to where it’s neatly folded on a table behind you. He’d been stripped out of it so they could work on him, but you hadn’t had the time or mental capacity to put it away, yet.

“Look under the chest plate, on the inside of the suit,” he instructs. “There’s a hidden pocket on the left.”

You give him a perplexed look before slowly turning to move toward the table. You slip your hand under the collar of his uniform and feel around under the chest plate. Sure enough, your fingers brush against the small pull tab of an invisible zipper. Pinching it between two fingers, you open the pocket and try to feel for what could be inside. Your fingers brush against some kind of paper. The beat of your heart fills your ears as you slowly pull the paper out and carefully unfold it.

“Oh my god…” all the air rushes out of your lungs at once.

It’s you. Drawn out in charcoal. Asleep on the cot in the barracks at Camp Lehigh. The drawing is unmistakable. You just saw it yesterday morning, so you can recognize it instantly. But the version you hold now is faded and smudged. The paper is soft and worn, the edges have turned yellow. The one you hold now didn’t come through the quantum realm. This one passed through the passage of time one single day at a time.

“You said I should carry you in my heart,” Steve’s words pierce straight through your scattered thoughts, making you gasp. “So, I did.”

Your hands begin to shake. You quickly set down the sketch, afraid that you might damage the delicate paper. “I…” you huff, your mind racing faster than you have the strength to comprehend. “I don’t understand.” Your breath hitches and you cup your hands over your mouth.

“Vic,” Steve calls for you gently.

When you turn to face him, he’s got his hand stretched out, beckoning you closer. You feel dizzy as you walk on unsteady legs over to him, taking his hand and letting him pull you closer until you’re sitting on the side of his bed. “Steve… I don’t- What does this mean?”

He gives you a small smile, squeezing your hand gently for comfort. “You just spent the last two weeks in 1943, right?” You swallow thickly and nod your head. “Vic… those two weeks happened 80 years ago for me.”

You choke on your next breath when his words confirm what your brain is trying to grasp at. “So, that means that I _did_ mess up the timeline, then. Oh, God. Bruce warned me that-”

“Honey, you didn’t mess up anything,” Steve cuts you off, using a soothing tone. 

“But…”

He runs his fingers over your hand, tracing out the lines on your palm in a calming gesture. “Do you remember when you were trying to figure out my Ma’s potato soup recipe?” he asks. “You would get so sad whenever it didn’t turn out quite right.”

You release a shaky breath watching how his fingers trace over your palm again and again. “I almost gave up.”

“I know. But then I begged you to try again. Just one more time. I told you that I _knew_ you would get it right and what happened next?” he prompts.

You huff out a laugh at the memory, “The next one was perfect.”

Steve nods in confirmation. “I knew you would get the recipe right because you’d already made it for me once…” He stops the ministration of his fingers on your hand and waits for your gaze to lift to his. “In 1943,” he finishes.

You hold his gaze and let that sink in. “So… These last two weeks… That was always supposed to happen?”

“Yes,” he confirms with a breath.

“But…” you shake your head trying to wrap your head around this new concept. “You never said anything… Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

He fixes you with a sad look, “For the same reason you were terrified to tell me the truth,” He explains. “I wanted to tell you. In fact, there were several times when I almost _did_. But I was scared that if I told you before it had a chance to happen, then it _wouldn’t_ happen at all.” He’s gone back to fiddling with your hand, now that he’s the one that needs comfort from the contact. “Vic, look at me,” he implores. “Why do I make you dance with me whenever _Taking a Chance on Love_ comes on?”

He’s never given you a reason before, which means there’s only one answer. “Because I made you dance with me to it in your apartment,” you answer.

He smiles. “Why do I always ask to make sure you’ve checked the expiration date on your emergency inhaler?”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Because I had to give it to you during your asthma attack.”

“Why do I kiss you on your stomach and on your back where you now have a set of scars underneath that t-shirt?”

Your press your free hand to the side of your stomach absentmindedly. “Because you helped me patch up the gunshot wound.”

“See?” he asks. “You didn’t change the timeline, Vic. You completed it.”

The words have no sooner left his mouth before you’re promptly bursting into tears. However, these tears aren’t coming from a place of sadness or fear, they instead stem from pure relief. You crumple forward against his chest, openly sobbing as he wraps an arm around you. “I was so scared that I had messed things up!”

“I know, Honey. But it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” He places a kiss to the top of your head and rubs soothingly at your back. He holds you close as you cry out the last of the stress and tension out of your body.

When you’re no longer racked with sob you push yourself off of him and rise off the bed. You grab a few tissues from the side table to blow your nose and dry your eyes before tossing them into the trash. You release a long sigh, feeling the last of the tension leave you. This, however, allows pure exhaustion to settle over you in its place.

“Vic, I mean this in the most loving way, but you look like crap.”

You release a dry scoff, shooting Steve with a light glare. “Gee, thanks.”

He looks back with concern. “When was the last time you slept?”

Your gaze softens up. “In 1943,” you tell him honestly.

“Come here,” he lifts his arm in invitation.

“Steve, you’re still recovering,” you protest.

“I’ll recover a whole lot faster if you don’t make me get up and come after you.”

You huff out a laugh, but relent and move back toward the bed. “Stubborn jerk,” you mumble. You kick off your shoes and raise the thin blanket covering his legs to tuck yourself in close next to him. You lay on your side, with your head on his chest and a leg thrown over his. You shift around a bit until you find the most comfortable spot. “You were easier to spoon when you were smaller.”

Steve releases a low chuckle, settling his arm over your shoulders and resting his hand at your back. “At least you never called my penis adorable when I was this size.”

“Oh my God,” you grumble. “I never said that, but I can certainly start!”

He snickers when you slap his chest. His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt and crawls back up until his fingers touch the scar on your back. He releases a low hum. “As soon as I get out of this hospital bed, we’re having crazy hot reunion sex.”

You snort in amusement. “I’m sorry, we’re having _what_?”

“Hey, you got some like two days ago, but I haven’t had sex in like a month,” he protests.

“Are you seriously jealous of yourself?” you ask dubiously.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he admits, continuing to run his fingers over your scar. “Usually whenever I missed you enough to make my chest ache. It happened a lot when you first left, but it would also creep up on me whenever things got slow on the war front. It always made me think about how there was a version of myself somewhere out there in another time that got to spend every night wrapped up in your arms. A version of me that got to touch you whenever he wanted. Kiss you whenever he pleased. It killed me not knowing when or if I’d ever see you again.”

You rub your cheek against his chest and listen to him talk. “When I was in the Valkyrie while it was going down and had to decide what to do… You were my first thought. If I crashed the plane and died, then I’d never get to see you again. And that thought scared me more than anything else. But then I remembered what you told me the day you left. _Don’t make your choices based on what you think will bring you back to me. Make the choice because you know it’s the right thing to do._ And I knew at that moment that this was exactly what you had been talking about. So… I grabbed onto my faith and plunged into the ice.

“When I woke up in 2012… I was terrified that I had overshot the timeline and missed my opportunity to be with you. Then the battle of New York happened and suddenly I had bigger problems to deal with. When I got assigned to the DC SHIELD office, as soon as I got my credentials, you were the first thing I looked up. Imagine my surprise when I found out you’d actually been in New York with me.”

“Like two ships passing in the night,” you comment, watching your fingers draw random patterns against his chest. “I was re-assigned to the LA office after New York.”

“I know. I purchased a plane ticket to California.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. “What?”

“Yeah. I flew out there to find you. When I got to the SHIELD base, the director made a big deal about my arrival and wanted to give me a grand tour of the facility. You were training when I first saw you.” You shift up onto your elbow, so you can look down and meet his gaze, eager to hear what he’ll say next. “You were with a guy. Sparring. I could tell you both were pretty friendly with each other. The way you fought was more teasing than actual combat training and whenever he pinned you to the mat, you would laugh. From where I was standing, it looked like you were flirting.”

You rack your brain, trying to figure out who he could be talking about. “Was that my old partner?” you question. “The one that was already married?”

Steve purses his lips and scrunches his nose. “And gay… It would take me a few years before figuring that one out.”

“Ugh, Steve!” you groan and flop back down onto his chest. To think you could have been with him even earlier if he hadn’t jumped to conclusions.

“I know,” he agrees with a sigh. “I really shot myself in the foot with that one. But you’d also been younger than I remembered you, so I was pretty sure I hadn’t missed our chance. I flew back to DC and then waited for you to come to me.”

“How the hell did you manage to keep all of this a secret? You suck at lying.” You ask in disbelief.

That gets a laugh out of him. “I honestly have no idea, but I am so glad that I can talk about it with you now.”

“Well, then I guess while we’re on the subject of clearing the air, I also have a confession to make.” Steve looks at you curiously. “I kind of had a ‘klepto’ moment,” you admit.

His brows pull together, “What does that mean?”

You bite your bottom lip and grimace, “I took something that doesn’t belong to me and brought it back through the quantum realm.”

He raises a brow, unsure if he should be amused or disapproving of your actions. “What did you take?”

Pushing yourself back up, you crawl halfway over his body and stretch an arm out to the wheeling table by his bed where all of your friends have put flowers and little trinkets to express their well wishes. Steve grabs onto your hips to make sure you don’t fall out of the bed as you drag the table a little closer. Plucking an object off the table, you settle back against Steve’s side and hand it to him.

“Vic…” even with just the one syllable, you can hear him choking up.

“Our last morning at the camp, you left to take a shower and your suitcase was just sitting there. Open. I saw where you had tucked it, and I don’t really know why, but I took it. I knew that when you woke up in 2012, anything that hadn’t been with you on that plane had been lost forever. I just… I wanted you to have them back.”

He stares down at the picture frame for a long time, unblinking.

“Are you mad…?” you ask hesitantly.

He finally blinks and a single tear travels down his cheek. “I never thought I’d see this again,” he says quietly. As you reach to wipe away his tear, his gaze lifts to yours. “Thank you,” he tells you, his voice filled with so much love you can feel it.

You smile tenderly back, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheek. “They would have been so proud of you.”

He swallows thickly and you have to wipe another tear from his cheek. “My Ma would have loved you.”

You lean your head down to rest your forehead against his. He takes a moment to process through his emotions before tilting his face forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. You release a content hum and fall into the kiss. This kiss feels a little different somehow. It’s pure and clarifying. It wipes away all the pain and stress you’ve felt over the last two weeks. It mends the cracks in your heart that formed when you had to leave him in 1943. You made it back. The serum worked. He’s alive and speeding down the road to recovery.

When you pull back, you’re crying again, because your heart is just so full that there’s nowhere left for your emotions to go. “I love you,” you whisper wetly against his lips.

He looks back and gives you the sweetest smile, “I love you too, Vic.” You help him put the picture of his parents back on the side table before settling against his side once again. “Okay, reunion sex first, but then we’re getting married like immediately after,” he comments.

You grin wide and release a laugh at his words. “Do I get a say in any of this?”

His arm tightens where it’s wrapped around your waist. “Only if you plan on saying yes.”

“Normally you’re supposed to ask these kinds of things,” you tease. As if there was any other option.

“I am way past the point of asking,” he huffs. “Would have done it years ago, if _someone_ hadn’t told me in 1943 that we weren’t married yet!”

“What was I supposed to say?!” You ask, wanting to laugh again. You can’t believe that _this_ is your first argument after coming back.

“You were _supposed_ to say that I married the shit out of you the second I saw you again! Maybe then, I would have tossed you over my shoulder and taken you for myself in California.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you giggle at his pouting face.

“Say you’ll marry me, or things are about to get a whole lot more ridiculous. I will toss you over my shoulder and go right now,” he threatens, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth is giving him away. 

“Yes, you stubborn idiot. I will let you marry the shit out of me.”

He shoots you a smug grin before his laughter starts to break through. “What happened to _stubborn jerk_?”

“You’ve been promoted for suggesting we should get married while you’re still hooked into an IV bag and I haven’t slept in 80 years.”

He looks over his shoulder up at the IV that’s still slowly administering fluids and the antidote into his system. “I can bring the IV stand with us and you can nap on the way. It’ll be great.”

You laugh at the goofy grin plastered across his mouth. “Good luck with that.”

If possible, his grin widens even further. “I don’t need luck. All I need is my Victory.”

-

**The End**


End file.
